


Failure To Appear

by refuse_to_sink



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Original Character(s), Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refuse_to_sink/pseuds/refuse_to_sink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All human AU set in the future. Derek is a bounty hunter and Stiles failed to appear on his court date. Derek accepts the job of tracking down Stiles; despite their history together.</p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Derek's a little shit, unsurprisingly Stiles is an even bigger little shit - and they land themselves in some serious hot water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so apparently I get all my inspiration from movies because I lack imagination? Plus my love for Gerard Butler (shh). Anyway it deviates pretty quickly from the Bounty Hunter, other than the fact that Derek's a bounty hunter. No beta, so mistakes are mine as per usual.  
> I'll add tags as I go.  
> Feel free to comment!

Derek awoke Friday morning to the noise of someone flushing the toilet and rinsing their hands. He groaned pulling the covers further over his head trying to bury himself as far into the bed as he could. There wasn’t anywhere he could escape to – not in his own apartment and certainly not in a studio apartment, what with the lack of doors and all. The bathroom was the only other room, and that was currently occupied – by Simon.

Simon was Derek’s latest fuck, they’d met at some inconspicuous gay bar - though how inconspicuous could it be in New York? Before they started knocking back a few beers, taking the subway back to Derek’s place. Simon was a few inches shorter than Derek, with blonde hair that often sat in a comb-over, gelled to perfection and watery blue eyes that was literally like looking into the clearest ocean in someplace like Greece – though Derek’s never been there. Simon was quite fit for his age, he was in his early forties and worked at an insurance firm, the breeding place of balding pudgy men and woman who wore baggy knitted sweaters and permed hair.

Derek wasn’t sure how long Simon had been at the bar before he got there, but he sat off to the side sipping on a beer by himself just looking about. That’s what drew Derek in (and the looks), but he wasn’t one of those guys at the bar trying to flirt outright and rather embarrassingly at that. It didn’t take them long to start talking and when Derek went to hand Simon another beer that’s when he noticed the glint of a gold ring on Simon’s ring finger. He was married. Simon had quickly caught on and tried to tell Derek that yes, he was married but he was getting divorced. Derek called bullshit. That’s when Simon sighed, looked away sheepishly when he confessed everything to Derek.

Simon was married, with three children at home, and a wife.  **A wife.**  He explained that while he loves his wife he’s always had feelings for men, and things have been going rather slowly at home in terms of his sex life with his wife, he just wasn’t satisfied. He swore it was his first time in a gay bar, since he’d been married – Derek believed he was telling the truth on that part. Simon just wanted an escape, some sex, and he figured acting on his gay fantasies as opposed to sleeping with another woman was less cruel. Hardly. But Derek was no priest and he certainly stood on no moral high grounds, so he knocked back his beer and muttered something about Simon following him out. And here they were.

“Hey” Simon announced as he exited the bathroom to sit on the opposite side of the bed to put on his socks and shoes. “You busy tomorrow night? Lynne and the kids aren’t back until Monday night.”

“I’ll call you” answered Derek from the warmth of his cocoon he was currently wrapped in. “Out” he demanded.

“Don’t forget” Simon replied as he leaned over, pulling the covers away from Derek’s wrapped face to place a quick kiss. Derek barely returned the kiss before growling at Simon to get out.

Derek started to think this was becoming more work than it was worth, but if he were being honest with himself he couldn’t be bothered to try and go out and find a new fuck, and the chances of him getting one that was so readily available wasn’t likely. At the very least Simon was always up for sex. And Derek really needed the distraction this weekend; he didn’t need to be reminded about that, what was meant to be joyous weekend all those years ago.  

When he heard the click of the door indicating that Simon had finally left, he tossed the covers down the length of his body, getting up and ready for work. He put on the first pair of jeans his hands laid on, a black t-shirt and his beloved leather jacket, despite the humid July New York morning that it was. He skipped out on breakfast, opting to pick up something on the way.

-

Stiles woke to the loud sound of drums banging non-stop. It was too early for any sort of parade, even if it was Independence Day Weekend. That’s when he realised the never ending clatter of drums weren’t actually drums at all, but his head throbbing to the beat of The Perfect Drug by Nine Inch Nails. He was nursing the worst hangover in the history of hangovers and it was barely 8 am. He peeked open one eye, not wanting the sun to cause temporary blindness – he saw a perfectly white shaggy carpet, a white nightstand with a few books stacked up in perfect alignment and white panelled walls. Even with the curtains closed, all the whiteness was like looking outside at the newly fallen snow, rather blinding. Although the apartment was nice, he realised it wasn’t his. He opened his other eye bolting straight up in the comfy bed that he swore was perfectly contoured to every inch of his body – to have a look around.

“Morning sunshine” a man said smiling as he entered the bedroom, dressed in only a pair of white boxers (what was with this guy and white).

“Morning?” Stiles questioned hoarsely. Mainly because it was still the early morning, he was hung over and he had no idea where the hell he was.

“Here” the man said handing Stiles a tray with a steaming cup of coffee, two croissants and a bowl of blueberries – Stiles’ mouth was already salivating.

Stiles said his thanks, smiling up at the man before him when it finally all started coming back to him. His name was Adriano, about Stiles’ height but while they shared a similar height, Adriano looked like a fucking model – oh wait, he was Stiles remembered. He had light brown skin, with glorious abs, and defined  **everything**  from his cheekbones to his thighs. He had dark brown, or maybe even black wavy hair that was currently falling into his eyes yet somehow made him look adorable set with dark brown eyes.

This was all Lydia’s fault. She had insisted her, her current roommate David (and Stiles was pretty sure her secret boyfriend even though she maintained they only lived together because they worked together which made it easier) that they go out on the town and take advantage of the cheap drinks they always served on a Thursday to lure in customers before the weekend started. Stiles knew it was just her attempt at a distraction so that Stiles’ wouldn’t sit around moping, not that that’s what he was going to do anyway. He had tried to come up with an excuse, he had an early morning, he wasn’t feeling well, he was going to go jump off a cliff. None of it worked. So off Lydia, David and Stiles went, out to the bar where they met Adriano – and so here Stiles was, on a Friday morning in a stranger’s bed.

“I had a good time last night” drawled Adriano in his sexy accent that Stiles’ was pretty sure he had said was from Spin, as he sat next to Stiles’ popping a blueberry in his mouth.

“Mmm me too” Stiles lied as he bit into his croissant. He may have damn well had a good time last night, but his brain was still a little fuzzy and he’s having a hard time remembering what happened after actually arriving at Adriano’s apartment. He was going to kill Lydia. At 28, he was adamant that he was over the whole one night stand thing, and yet here he was.

“We should do it again then?” Adriano asked “I’m off to Porto, Portugal tomorrow for a few weeks for work, but when I get back?”

“Umm sure?” squeaked Stiles’ in response. This is what he hated, the whole awkward morning after, he always felt bad just trying to leave.

“Great” beamed Adriano, as he leaned over Stiles’ grabbing his phone off of the floor where it has obviously been tossed the previous night in a haste to get naked. Adriano programmed his number into Stiles’ phone, before calling his own phone so that he could save Stiles’ number.

Stiles quickly drank down his coffee as fast as he could without burning his mouth, because quite frankly he needed the coffee, and the coffee was some good shit. It must have been imported or something, because Stiles’ has never tasted something so orgasmic before. He couldn't resist asking where it was from before he left. Adriano has chuckled telling him it was from Spain, Torrefacto. Stiles made a note to pick some up if he ever went to Spain, before he was out the door grumbling about being late for work.

-

“Nice of you to show up Derek” Erica teased from where she sat at her desk, chewing loudly on a piece of gum. While Derek had grown fond of Erica these past few months, nothing was more annoying than having to listen to someone chew their gum like a cow chewing cud. On the bright side, he wasn't in the office a lot.

Derek grunted in response, plopping down on the black leather sofa Boyd had crammed in front of the window that read Boyd’s Bail Bonds accompanied by the phone number. The shop was in Williamsburg. Not the nicest areas, but not the worse. On the bright side, the business got a lot of action, and that’s all that Boyd cared about.

“Where’s Boyd?” Derek asked as he propped his feet up on the table, knocking over a few magazines. He ignored the look Erica gave him, he knew it pissed her off but he didn’t care. She wasn’t his boss; she was the boss’ wife though. 

“Getting some food” Erica answered. “Wait – aren’t you supposed to have this weekend off? You’ve worked every weekend these past few months?”

“Need the money” Derek lied, shrugging. He could always use the money, that’s true, but he liked an excuse to get out and do something rather than sitting at home doing fuck all.

“Don’t think there will be much action this weekend” Erica explained “Boyd likes to give the fugitives time to relax over the holidays” she continued, laughing at her own little tidbit.

Derek nodded his head, scooting down a little farther on the couch so he could lay his head on the back, closing his eyes and dozing off. While he didn’t drink to the excess, he still had enough that left him feeling a little hung over and it’s not like he got much sleep the night before. He contemplated getting the hell out of the shop before Boyd came back, so he could go sleep it off.

“Derek” Boyd barked as he entered the store, the little bell chiming, breaking Derek out of his little snooze fest “My office.”

Derek sighed, bringing his feet down to the ground with a thud as he made his way to Boyd’s cramped office behind Erica’s desk. He took his usual seat opposite Boyd’s, waiting.

“So uhh, something’s come up” Boyd cleared his throat as he offered Derek a doughnut from the box he brought in with him. Derek nodded his head no, while he was indeed hungry, he wasn’t much of a person to eat junk food.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, quizzically “Something you can’t handle? I can do it for you if you want the weekend off. I’ll probably be done in a few hours, tops” Derek boasted.

“It’s umm, it’s for a Stiles Stilinski” Boyd stammered, even with his dark complexion he had a little visible blush, moving around in his seat showing how uncomfortable he was.

“What?” Derek demanded, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyes zeroing in on Boyd.

“He got into some trouble a few months ago” hedged Boyd “He came to me, saying he tried some other bail bondsmen, but they wouldn’t take him, something about his finances or risk or something. I didn’t think they were that bad, so I took him on.”

“And you took him on?” interrogated Derek, voice rising “You obviously knew who he was to me, and you took him on?”

“It’s not like he knew you worked here, I didn’t say anything” explained Boyd “He was in trouble, needed some help so I helped him. Business is business Derek. If you don’t want to handle him that’s fine I’ll call in one of the other guys.”

“What’d he do?” Derek asked.

“Got caught trying to break into a impound yard, into one of the cars on the lot.”

“Idiot” Derek muttered under his breath.

“If you’re not up for –”

“Oh I’ll do it” Derek smirked “Shouldn’t take me long” he continued, standing up from his seat. “And since it’s the long weekend, I’ll expect double my fee, bonus if I get him in in the next hour and a half.”

“We’ll see Hale” Boyd laughed, handing Derek the papers that contained all of Stiles’ information.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Stiles, where’s my damn story?” Mr Gilmore, the editor in chief demanded the minute Stiles slumped down in his chair in his cubicle – barely enough time to turn on his computer, or you know get a second caffeine fix

“Give me a minute” gasped Stiles as he took a sip of some stale water from his left over water bottle from the previous day. Adriano lived on the Upper East Side, and Stiles’ had to dash to his apartment in Greenwich before jumping back on the subway to get to the papers’ headquarters in Lower Manhattan.

“The final draft better be on my desk by the end of next week if you want it to go to print” Mr Gilmore reprimanded from the confines of his spacious glass-walled office. “Or you’re fired” he tactfully added on to the end.

“Yeah right” Stiles rolled his eyes in response “I’m the best crime news reporter you’ve got; otherwise you’d have to live with Whitmore over here. You should be buying me a bloody Golden Opulence Sundae from Serendipity’s.”

While Stiles loves his job, he really does, it’s better than he could have ever imagined the worst part about it? Jackson Whitmore. They’d gone to school together, along with Lydia and they all moved to New York to go to school and move on with their lives and Jackson basically followed to be with Lydia. Only, now that they had broken up Stiles has to hear  **all**  day about Lydia and how much Jackson wants her back, and Lydia this and Lydia that. If Stiles were running this paper he’d fire Jackson’s ass just because he could, but Mr Gilmore would never do that – mainly because Jackson was the best sports journalist there was. Plus Stiles and Jackson were friends, sometimes.

“You get me this big story you’re going on about and I’ll think about it” Mr Gilmore called out from his office.

“Deal!” Stiles yelled out as he printed some of his notes off of the desktop computer, cramming them into his satchel before he was out the door and heading to his favourite spot.

-

Derek read over the notes Boyd has given him as he exited the shop, making his way to the nearest subway station. He wasn’t surprised to see that after a year, Stiles was still at the paper. He did however; note Stiles’ new address in Greenwich. He bet it was a complete 180 from the house they owned in Kips Bay, not that Derek minded their house in Kips Bay and he didn’t think Stiles minded either. Back then though, Stiles was just starting his job and had heaps of debt that was sucking the life out of him, so they couldn’t afford the grandest of places. Over the years though, Stiles kept getting promoted and raises among raises so Derek isn’t surprised that Stiles probably lives in a fancy pants apartment in Greenwich living his perfectly stupid life.

Back then, Derek was still a cop and they both knew that Derek’s salary wasn’t going to suddenly inflate overnight. A cop just didn’t make enough money, not as much as all these investment bankers and politicians, Stiles said he never minded. Derek took leave of being a cop after he and Stiles split, being shot at, getting into fights and having to deal with gangs got to be tiresome. He was getting too old for this shit, granted he was still in his 30’s; being a cop has its wear and tear on you. Not that chasing after fugitives doesn’t, but at least he doesn’t have a badge holding him down – so if he wants to get a little rough, who cares?

It didn’t take long before Derek was getting off the subway at the station nearest to Battery Park. He wasn’t positive that Stiles would be there, but he knew that it was one of Stiles’ favourite places, and he often went there to work and get out of the stuffy office. It was worth a shot anyway.

-

Battery Park is one of Stiles’ favourite places in all of New York. He can easily admit there are about a dozen different places that he loves, and he doesn’t doubt there are more than few dozen places he’s yet to explore that he’d love. That’s what he loves about New York, every day you can encounter something new, something different. It was a drastic change from good old Beacon Hills – his home town that you could see all of in about a ten minute walk.

Stiles loves that he can sit and face New York Harbour where he can see ferries and people’s boats sailing along in the vast expanse of the waterway going to God knows where. That’s what he likes about the harbour, and the water, it’s like a mini escape from the reality of the real world. To be able to sit on a boat, feel the cool breeze on a warm summer’s day, or a darkening evening looking out onto the New York Skyline. He used to, and sometimes still does take the ferry that leaves from the port to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, sometimes he’d pay attention and other times he’d sit in a corner with his laptop and notes, working on his homework or now a days his newest article. He even used to drag Derek sometimes, but Derek would always end up grumbling about sea sickness – he really just hated being stuck on a boat with no escape surrounded by noisy annoying tourists.

Stiles also loved the history of Batter Park and being able to see all the old monuments that still stood there, from Castle Clinton to just sitting down on a bench under the cool shade of the giant trees that seem to loom everywhere. It’s just to, relaxing.

So there sat Stiles, on one of the unoccupied benches facing the Harbour with papers scattered on the rest of the bench, his satchel on top of the papers so that they wouldn’t blow away. He had his headphones in, turned up high enough to drown out the children running around screaming, and the other passer-by’s. He was typing away on his laptop, working on his current article that he was positive was going to please the socks off of old Mr Gilmore – that he didn’t even notice the man a few yards away, watching him as he answered his ringing cell.

“Dead, you’re dead Lydia Martin” Stiles sighed into the phone.

“How was it? Was he amazing or what?” Lydia demanded.

“I – don’t know”

“You didn’t sleep with him?” gasped Lydia “Oh Stiles Stilinski don’t you dare tell me you threw up on him right before sex. That was only cute in high school and that’s because Derek was – Oh forget it.”

“It’s been coming back to me in little puffs throughout the day” Stiles answered, ignoring his best friends comment about the man she wasn’t supposed to speak of “I did wake up to breakfast in bed, coffee, croissants and blueberries.”

“If only he were straight, I’d have taken him home” Lydia sighed, thinking about waking up to breakfast in bed and how romantic that was – or supposed to be at least.

“Right, then I’d have to hear Jackson go on and on and how heartbroken he is” Stiles countered.

“Just because I brought up Derek doesn’t mean you get to bring up Jackson” Lydia reprimanded Stiles.

“Tit for tat”

“You don’t even like tits” Lydia pointed out.

“Oh but I sure do love yours” Stiles teased.

“Gross. Hanging up now, call me later kay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

-

Just as Derek had expected – Stiles was at Battery Park, sitting on a bench working away without taking notice of anything else going on around him. Derek always used to joke that there could be a fire just a way’s down from Stiles, and while he was in the zone, working, he wouldn’t even notice. Stiles used to roll his eyes at that, but Derek was also probably right. Stiles knew how he could get when he was in his “Zen do-not disturb mode.”

Derek enjoyed watching the children throwing Frisbee’s on the lawn around Stiles and the kids walking their dogs – or rather their dogs trailing behind trying to keep up in the hot humid weather. No, Derek didn’t like watching the children because he was a pervert – he liked watching them because he wanted kids.

_“Can’t we just get a dog?” Stiles had asked._

_“You’re comparing children to dogs?” Derek countered raising his eyebrow._

_“They eat, shit and whine. They’re practically the same. Fuck, you’re practically a kid yourself following that definition. Besides we’re both too busy.”_

Yes, they both had demanding jobs but wasn’t the whole point of being married and having children, to make sacrifices? When the time came, Derek was sure that both of them would lessen their work load to focus on their children. Turns out though, that it didn’t get to that point, instead it ended up in divorce.

_“Also, what’s better than being God Parent’s to Scott and Allison’s kids? We get to see them once almost every month; spoil them then hand them back over to their parents. No commitment.”_

_“That’s not the same” argued Derek._

_“But still valid” Stiles finalised._

Derek shook those thoughts out of his head, today wasn’t about reminiscing about the good old days because although in the end it was a struggle to communicate, the good days were far more numerous than the bad days that were few and far in-between. No, today was about hauling Stiles ass in to jail and getting paid.

“Stiles” Derek smirked as he approached the bench where Stiles was sitting still completely engrossed in his work.

“Derrrrek?” Stiles drawled out, stunned as he looked up from his laptop removing one of his earphones. “You stalking me now?”

“Nope. Just doing my job” Derek smiled purely predatory.

“Oh you’re here to arrest me?” Stiles laughed out as he saved his work turning off his laptop.

“Nope just here to bring you in to jail since you skipped court.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me” screeched Stiles.

Derek shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms in a defence manner. Because in all actuality he hadn’t been keeping tabs on Stiles, in fact he’d been doing the exact opposite trying to stray as far away from any information pertaining to Stiles as humanly possible.

“What are you Dog the God damn fucking Bounty Hunter?” Stiles ridiculed.

Derek let out a snort, although he didn’t watch the show he knew who Dog was, and he was nothing like Dog; he sure didn’t dress like Dog and Stiles was certainly not Beth in this scenario or would be scenario if Stiles and Derek were actually still together.

“So it’s true, you took leave from the precinct?” Stiles continued on.

“Now who’s keeping tabs on who?” quipped Derek

“I – that’s not the point” Stiles shrugged.

“Tell you what kid” Derek taunted “I’ll give you a ten second start.”

“Are you fucking in-”

“Ten”

“-sane”

“Nine”

Before Derek even breathed out “eight” Stiles was up and running in the opposite direction to Derek struggling to get his satchel over his shoulder without losing all its contents. He stood his ground, counted down to one before Derek was off and chasing after Stiles.

It didn’t take long for Derek to catch up to Stiles, even as Stiles was running in zigzags trying to throw Derek off – he even managed to jump over a dog, breaking apart a couple who were holding hands who swore loudly at him. Stiles didn’t even get out a sorry before he was off and running again. Derek just got a hand on the end of Stiles bag getting ready to haul him backwards so that he fell flat on his ass when Stiles ducked under a cement statue that stood in the park. Stiles squeezed through a gap at the bottom of the modern sculpture tugging his bag out of Derek’s grip - who was on his hands and knees trying to pull Stiles back - before he disappeared out of Derek’s view.

Derek stood up straight brushing his jeans to remove any lingering dirt before dusting his hands off. He rolled his shoulders back and forth trying to ease the tension before he decided his next plan of action. That’s when he remembered the sheet Boyd had given him with all of Stiles’ information. He pulled it out again looking for Stiles’ home address; and that’s when he knew what his next plan was.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek got on the subway for what felt like the millionth time in one day – but he wasn’t heading in the direction of Stiles’ apartment but instead to his own. It seemed apparent that bringing Stiles into jail wasn’t going to be as easy as he had initially thought. He got off at the stop closest to his apartment before he started the ten minute or so trek to his apartment, turning down a side street to get to his truck that was parked on the road under a tree. The joys of living in a cheap studio apartment was that he didn’t have his own parking or a parking garage, he just had to park it on the street and hope for the best.

He fished the keys out of his pocket and started up the engine heading towards Stiles’ apartment. He took the Williamsburg Bridge, not enjoying the view like he knew Stiles would but instead tried to speed along as fast as he could during the mid-day traffic. There was something about bridges that he just didn’t like. Oh yeah, being suspended over a large body of water, that was it. It didn’t take long, about 20 minutes before Derek was pulling up outside a light brown bricked building kept in immaculate condition. Some of the apartments had little balconies protruding from the windows while others just had large glass windows.

Derek drove around until he could find a parking spot, parking his car and shoving his keys back into his pocket making his way towards Stiles’ building. Now was the hard part, he needed to get inside the building and he was pretty sure he saw a doorman standing outside the building. Derek hated to admit that although he was sour about Stiles living somewhere so nice, at least there was security. He removed his leather jacket trying to make himself look more presentable, quickly running back to his truck to throw his jacket in the front seat.

As he made his way towards the large arched front door he tried to relax his body, making it look like he frequented the building often and not about to try and break into someone’s apartment. The doorman came into view, immediately coming to attention as Derek approached.

“Afternoon sir, how can I help?” The doorman, an elderly man whose name tag read Philip asked.

“Just meeting my friend… Mr Smith – for lunch” Derek smiled as best as he could.

“Of course, enjoy” Philip beamed back, opening the door and gesturing Derek to walk on in.

Derek smiled; moving in as quickly as he could for fear that Philip would change his mind and catch on to Derek’s plan. He took back his initial thought, this building security sucks - and while he’s grateful for that as this moment, he’s not when it comes to Stiles safety. Not that that should be his main concern anymore. Nope.

He got into the elevator hitting the 10th floor button waiting as he made his ascent; avoiding eye contact with those who he shared the elevator with while also trying not to seem like a criminal. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if he still had his police uniform, people respected that. They feared a man in a leather jacket and boots; at least he rid himself of the jacket. Of course, if he were still a police officer it wouldn’t have been his job to collect Stiles.

Once the elevator reached the tenth floor, he got out and walked in the direction of Stiles’ apartment number, reaching it. Now was the tricky part, he had to be quick in trying to pick the lock before someone came off of the elevator or came out of their apartment and saw Derek, and called security. He removed the pins from his jean pockets that he had collected out of his truck, inserting them into the front door keyhole, fiddling around for a few seconds before hearing the tell-tale click of the door unlocking.

He removed the pins from the lock and opened the door to Stiles’ apartment quickly shutting it behind him and relocking it. His eyes swept up and down the hallway looking at the coat rack that had a few of Stiles’ jackets with his shoes lined up perfectly underneath. He continued down the hallway into a large open spacious living room that housed a black leather sofa, that kind that reclined on the two ends, and a smaller two seater adjacent with a large flat screen TV in front. Derek wasn’t surprised to see that the TV had a DVD player, with a bunch of speakers surrounding it with Stiles’ massive DVD collection off to the side. If Derek remembered correctly Stiles even had the DVD’s organised in alphabetical order, by genre.

He continued down another hallway that presumably led to the bedrooms, peeking his head into the first bedroom that was clean but bare, with just the bed and bedside table – the guestroom. When he came to the last door, opening it, he saw that it was the master bedroom. The room was perfectly clean, save for a pair of trousers and a dress shirt thrown on the ground as if Stiles changed in a rush forgetting to pick up his clothes. It was a far cry from the days when Stiles was in high school. Not that his room was messy per say, he just had papers thrown everywhere and clothes littering the ground but if you asked Stiles he would tell you that he made sense of the chaos that was his room.

Derek walked back to the kitchen, opening the fridge – he grabbed a container filled with leftovers that looked deliciously amazing; spaghetti with meatballs with what he was sure was Stiles’ own sauce recipe. He heated it up, grabbed a beer from the fridge while he waited for the microwave to ding then he walked back to Stiles’ bed, made himself comfortable on top – leaving his shoes on which he knew Stiles’ hated and flicked on the TV waiting for Stiles to return.

-

Stiles let out a whoop of joy as he emerged from the other side of the sculpture when he realised he had escaped from Derek’s grasp. He really thought that Derek was going to catch up to him, considering he was an ex-cop and all. But then again, Derek got cocky forgetting that Stiles knew Battery Park better than most. He tried to decide where he should head to next, because there was no way he was going to go back into the office, considering Derek knew where he worked.

He instead decided to head to the coffee shop that was a few blocks away from his apartment that served some of the best coffee in New York, in his humble opinion. Derek definitely wouldn’t think to look there since he didn’t know where Stiles lived let alone where his new coffee place was.

Stiles ordered a cup of coffee, setting up his laptop on the table so that he could try and get some work done – and not think about how he’d just seen Derek for the first time in over a year. And definitely not think about the fact that Derek was there to take him in to fucking jail. This was just his life. He greedily drank up the coffee as soon as it cooled down enough, chowing down on his sandwich as he typed away about his article.

He was working on what he hoped would be an amazing article not covered by many others papers, but it was proving hard to get all the facts because everything going down was all secretive or just speculation. His boss had faith in him though; he’d covered some pretty interesting and bizarre cases in the past.

For instance, he covered one case where a man who had previously been in jail had made a show of shop lifting so that he would get arrested again, all because he had leukaemia and needed the healthcare cover that he’d get in prison but couldn’t afford outside. It was an interesting court case to sit in on and Stiles article had been a hit. Not only did he cover the generalness of the case but he managed to go on about healthcare in the United States and how most couldn’t afford it, the usual complaints from most. But the fact that someone would willingly commit a crime just to get free healthcare, you just couldn’t make shit like that up.

After a few more hours at the coffee shop Stiles couldn’t focus any longer on his work and he really didn’t need to order his third cup of coffee otherwise he’d be up all night and completely fuck up his sleeping pattern – again. He packed up his laptop and loose papers getting ready for the trek home.

\--

As soon as Stiles’ walked in to his house he realised something was off. Firstly, there were little chunks of dirt on his rug in the entry hallway – dirt that had not been there this morning. Secondly, there was a noise coming from somewhere in the house – he lived alone. Instead of doing the smart thing and vacating his apartment and calling security like he ought to, he shut his front door, dropped his satchel on the ground and crept further into the house. He peeked into the front room making sure there was no one in there, when there wasn’t he continued on to his kitchen and realised there was no one in there. He did however; notice that there was a dirty serving spoon on the counter, one he certainly did not leave there considering he hadn’t had anything to eat in his apartment for at least a full 24 hours.

He silently picked up the closest thing to him and crept as stealthily as he could to the room that he was almost certain someone was currently occupying. As he approached his bedroom he could hear what sounded like the TV on and he stopped a second to wonder who the fuck would break into someone’s apartment to watch TV – maybe to make sure it worked first?

“You chose the wrong fucking house you shit bag!” Stiles yelled as he barged into his bedroom holding up his weapon of choice – at the exact same time his back hit the wall as he was being pushed into it held in place with an arm across his throat closing off part of his airway.

“What the hell did you plan to accomplish with a fucking baguette Stiles?” Derek growled from his position in front of Stiles, holding him in place – eyes sweeping down to Stiles’ hands that held a white baguette still in its packaging.

“Over-carb you to death?” Stiles sputtered out trying to get some air to his lungs, trying to wiggle free from Derek’s grip. “Now get off me!”

Derek complied stepping away, only fractionally from Stiles, still looming in his personal space.

“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to break into someone’s house, cop or not and you’re not one anymore” Stiles pointed out as he rubbed his hand across his throat where Derek held him only moments ago.

“You ran” Derek answered.

“You told me to!” Stiles threw out as he tossed the useless baguette onto the bed, he distracted himself from the fact that Derek was in his bedroom by picking up the clothes he had dropped this morning in a haste to get ready for work.

“I didn’t think you’d get away.”

“Glad to see you still have faith in me” Stiles accused, not making eye contact as he shoved his clothes in his laundry hamper.

“Doesn’t matter – I’m still bringing you in” Derek replied as he once again made himself comfortable on Stiles’ bed.

“It’s Friday evening” Stiles pointed out ignoring Derek’s raised eyebrow “There won’t be a judge to see me until the week begins so what am I supposed to do just sit in jail all weekend?” as he crossed his arms defensively.

“Not my problem is it?” Derek smirked moving his shoes around on the bed watching Stiles get frustrated but not saying anything. Derek more than remembered Stiles’ previous complaints about shoes and beds when they were married, it used to drive him crazy.

“But-”

“If I don’t bring you in – someone else will Stiles.”

“I’ll pay you!” Stiles bargained “I promise I’ll turn myself in on Monday after the holidays.”

“I get paid to bring you in anyway” Derek shrugged “I was looking forward to it.”

“But – I got it!” Stiles exclaimed as he dashed out of the bedroom.

Derek was up in an instant ready to chase after Stiles in case he made another run for it, Derek wouldn’t put it past Stiles, the little fucker. Only Stiles didn’t try and make a run for it, he knew better than to think that he could make it to the elevator before Derek caught up to him. And he definitely was not going to try and run down the stairs, knowing his luck he’d tumble down and end up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed. He instead rummaged throw a ceramic bowl full of knick knacks near the front door producing a set of keys, dangling them in front of Derek.

“I’ll pay you **and** give you the keys to the Camaro” Stiles beamed because this was surely a bargain Derek couldn’t refuse.

When Derek and Stiles moved to New York from Beacon Hills, Derek had reluctantly sold his precious Camaro so that they’d have some more money in New York. He kept his car in perfect condition and knew he could sucker some guy into paying more than it was worth – and he was right. If Derek was heartbroken about it, it didn’t show at the time because he was moving to New York for him and Stiles to start a new life, as long as Stiles was there he didn’t care. A few years after that, when they both had steady jobs they had decided to buy another one, one almost exactly like the one Derek owned.

Only because Stiles had the better job did they put his name on the car even though Derek drove it most of the time. When they separated Stiles had taken the car leaving Derek, once again without a Camaro only this time did he put up a fight saying he wanted the car – but of course Stiles won. Now faced with the opportunity to have the Camaro back, Derek was tempted.

“You know you want it” Stiles taunted as he continued to dangle the keys in front of Derek’s face.

Derek snatched the keys out of Stiles hands before Stiles had a chance to jerk his arm backwards.

“2000 bucks” Derek said pocketing the keys.

“Are you crazy? A thousand tops” Stiles countered.

“$3000” Derek shrugged.

“Fine $1500.”

“$2500 and the Camaro with signed documents showing the transfer of the car in my name” Derek replied crossing his arms telling Stiles that was his final offer.

“Ugh fine!” Stiles exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. “First thing Monday morning, I’m in jail, you’re $2500 richer with a fucking car. Life is perfect for you isn’t it?”

Stiles moved to open the door to usher Derek out. Only Derek turned on his heels walking back further into Stiles apartment ignoring Stiles mouth hanging open.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Stiles called out to Derek’s retreating form. “Door is this way, are you not familiar with how one works? Basic opening of door, stepping out, and shutting door!”

“You really think I’m going to leave you, so you make a run for it again?” Derek yelled back from the front room.

“What, you think I’m stupid enough to cross state lines when there’s a warrant out for my arrest? Thanks but I don’t need to give my dad a fucking heart attack about harbouring a fugitive” Stiles muttered following after Derek.

“Wouldn’t put anything past you” Derek solemnly replied.

Stiles chose to ignore whatever it was Derek was trying to imply and instead said “So what, you plan to stay here all weekend?”

“That’s the plan. Where you go, I go.”

“This is ridiculous” screamed Stiles as he headed back towards his bedroom. “I’m going to shower, would you like to check to make sure the windows are locked in case I decide to tie my bed linens together and propel down the side of the building?” questioned Stiles.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then make yourself useful and clean up the mess you made in my god damn bedroom” Stiles yelled back.

Of course, Derek didn’t bother cleaning up after himself knowing it would drive Stiles crazy. He was right as he heard Stiles swearing under his breath as he made his way back towards the kitchen carrying Derek’s dirty dishes and putting them in the dish washer. Derek was sure he heard something along the lines of “ _glad to see things haven’t changed_ ” – not that he could be sure.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a distraction from my math & statistics work, so here you go!

“Get up, get up” Stiles announced when he barged into his guest room where Derek had been sleeping as he opened the curtains. “Rise and shine! Lots to do today!”

“What time is it?” Derek muttered throwing the covers off of him and sitting up in the bed.

“8:00” Stiles answered turning around coming face-to-face with Derek dressed only in his boxers – and what a sight that was. Stiles tried to avert his eyes to look Derek in the face, or look anywhere else in the room. Only his eyes lingered on the outline of Derek’s cock in his perfectly fitted black underwear – only black, Stiles had tried to buy him colourful boxers before and Derek had thrown a fit. His eyes raked up Derek’s torso, taking in his happy trail, defined abs, and chest not so much sprinkled but covered in hair which Stiles loved. Stiles had forgotten just how much that used to turn him on – only now he wasn’t supposed to get turned on, Derek wasn’t his anymore.

“What the fuck do you have to do at 8 am?” Derek asked rubbing his eyes although he didn’t miss the way Stiles was looking at him – and if he happened to flex a little it was completely unintentional.

“Uhh, work stuff. Y’know? For the paper, article to write, words to be typed” Stiles stammered out shifting in place. “I’ll just let you get dressed” he continued heading for the door.

“Why can’t you write it here?” Derek asked.

“Because we’re going on a road trip!” Stiles divulged shutting the door immediately.

“I need to go to my apartment to get a change of clothes” Derek mentioned when he exited from the guest bedroom in the previous days clothes.

“I’m driving” said Stiles.

“Dream on.”

-

Derek and Stiles got into Derek’s truck, opting to leave the Camaro in the parking garage for now – Derek could always get it later now that he had the keys. They made their way back onto the Williamsburg Bridge heading towards Derek’s apartment. If Stiles didn’t already know that Derek lived in Brooklyn he didn’t mention it just kept his eyes glued out the window taking in all the scenery.

“Wait here” ordered Derek as he parked his car down yet another side street.

“What, why?” whined Stiles. “You can’t leave me here. That guy is looking at me funnily” Stiles pointed out eyeing a man walking down the opposite side of the street pushing a shopping cart full of old shopping bags with what Stiles presumed was garbage. “And I have to pee.”

“Why didn’t you go before we left?” growled Derek.

“Almost ten years together and you still don’t know the answer to that?” huffed Stiles opening the door to the truck to get out.

Derek sighed leading the way to the front of his apartment building, opening the door – the one that’s glass wasn’t shattered and covered up with boarding, letting it shut behind him; not holding it open for Stiles. He took the stairs two at a time as he heard Stiles trying to keep up, already running out of breath – how Stiles managed to get away from Derek yesterday he had no idea.

Once they’d reached the fourth floor Derek continued on to the end of the hallway opening the last door. Stiles took his time really trying to take in the wonderful décor that was the hallway – with the peeling greeny-yellow paint that he swore would just flake away if he looked at it hard enough, to the tacky wood that panelled the bottom half of the wall. He didn’t even want to think about the smell, he held his breath as he continued down the hallway following after Derek.

If there was one thing Stiles was pleased about when he entered Derek’s apartment, it definitely wasn’t the décor but the fact that at least Derek’s apartment didn’t smell like day old piss. While Derek’s walls weren’t painted that horrible greeny-yellow, it was pained what he thought was supposed to be a cream colour, but with time it had gotten an ashy look that was not at all a attractive sight.

“I love what you’ve done with the place; think you could give me the name of your decorator?” Stiles commented.

“Shut up Stiles” Derek grunted placing his keys and phone on the counter – removing his shirt as he walked to his dresser.

“Such a sour puss” mused Stiles “It can’t be because you didn’t have a good enough sleep last night. That bed cost $800 and is heavenly.”

“Goes to show money doesn’t buy good taste.”

“Harsh” pouted Stiles, sitting down on one of the two bar stools in the kitchen area.

Stiles started rocking back and forth on the barstool growing impatient waiting for Derek. There wasn’t much to look at in the apartment so it only distracted him for a few minutes before he grew bored again – tapping his fingers. That’s when Derek’s cell phone started to ring and Stiles saw the name “Simon” pop up, there was no picture to accompany the name though. Not that Stiles wanted to snoop or anything.

“Simon’s calling” Stiles yelled only to be startled as he saw Derek appear next to him snatching up the phone and hitting ignore. “If you need to answer its fine, I know you still have to work.”

“It’s not work” Derek commented.

“Oh.” Stiles began. “Well I can just step out if it’s personal.”

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t mind rea-”

“I said it’s fine” Derek restated growing frustrated.

“Um right, well I’ll go pee. I take it that’s the bathroom?” Stiles asked pointing to the only other room with a door in the apartment as he made his way over.

Stiles had no idea who Simon was and he knew it wasn’t any of his business. Derek was allowed to do what he pleased just as Stiles was. That didn’t stop Stiles from spending a little longer than necessary in the bathroom not only to get himself back under control; hide the hurt he felt just thinking about Derek with someone else. But also to snoop around – he tried to see if there were any duplicates of stuff in the bathroom. There was only the one bar of soap, one towel but Stiles saw two toothbrushes confirming his suspicions. Derek was dating. Derek had moved on.

If there was one thing Stiles was good at, it was hiding the hurt. He’d learned to do it a long time ago, from an age where he should have been care free not having to deal with the loss of a parent and trying to look after another. He quickly washed his hands, wiping them off on his jeans emerging from the bathroom with the same old happy face announcing he was ready to leave.

-

Derek cursed himself as he snatched the phone away from the counter, out of Stiles view. Why had he left his phone in plain sight it’s not like he intentionally wanted to announce to Stiles he was fucking around. When Stiles excused himself to go to the bathroom Derek sent a quick text to Simon telling him he’d call him later, something came up. He knew Simon wouldn’t be thrilled considering this was the one weekend his wife was away with the kids – Derek pretty much had free access to Simon and his cock but instead he was spending it with his ex.

He wondered what the hell was taking Stiles so long in the bathroom. He didn’t think he’d left anything in there worthy of scandal considering he kept the condoms by his bed – which he thankfully tucked away discreetly as he was picking out a new set of clothes to wear. Soon enough Stiles was out of the bathroom ready to go.

“Where are we going?” Derek questioned.

“Adirondack Park” grinned Stiles.

“I don’t even know where the hell that is”

“Well either do I, technically. But that’s what phones and GPS’s are for right?”

“How far?” sighed Derek.

“Couple of hours.”

“You’re a pain in my ass” Derek whispered grabbing the car keys and heading out the front door Stiles in tow.

Once back in the car, Derek driving of course he waited for Stiles to get the directions on his phone, guiding Derek on to the freeway. Stiles was soon absorbed looking through his notepad, scratching stuff out, rewriting things and highlighting about half the pages. He made little noises, talking to himself as he wrote which only served to annoy Derek by the minute.

“Do I even want to know what this is for?” Derek conceded after about half an hour on the road.

“Only the biggest story ever!” Stiles exclaimed looking up from his papers.

Derek side-eyed him in his silent “continue on”.

“There’s this secret group or cult – whatever you want to call it; Blood Moon Pack. They live in and around Adirondack Park and they’re rumoured to deal drugs and hold these sacrifices and everything! But they live off the land in their own little tribe or whatever; so there hasn’t really been any record of them or actual criminal convictions. But I want to prove they exist!”

“So you don’t actually know that this… Group exists so we’re going on a wild chase?”

“You’re a bounty hunter! I thought you liked the thrill of the chase” Stiles argued. “You chased me.”

“When I’m getting paid for it” he emphasized. “And I didn’t chase you. You showed up at the mechanics at least once a week rambling about how your jeep was broken, oil stains on your shirt from whatever you were doing to fuck your car up, when it was fine in the first place. You stalked me by having Scott try and get to know me.”

“Semantics” Stiles replied waving his hand, because okay yeah maybe in high school he got a glimpse of Derek when he had been working part time at the mechanics while in police academy, and was he ever a sight. Then when the Sheriff invited Derek over for dinner that one night talking about Derek’s future as a cop, Stiles nearly creamed his pants right there. “Besides I believe you’re getting paid $2500, I might as well make you work for it” Stiles jested.

“This is ridiculous” Derek muttered.

“Dude, they apparently dress up in these wolf masks and everything. You can’t tell me this isn’t interesting?” Stiles bantered on. “I saw you watching that wolf documentary one time.”

“Says the one who has porn hidden behind their DVD collection.”

“YOU SNOOPED” screeched Stiles face burning bright, only to have Derek shrug his shoulders.  

So sue Stiles, he’s been a little lonely since the separation. Adriano had been the first guy he’s slept with since Derek, the second guy ever. Not something he wants to advertise to the world.

-

“The turn should be up here somewhere” Stiles suggested interrupting Derek out of his daze a few hours later.

Derek kept his eyes peeled for the turning off now that they were on a more secluded road leading to the park. He turned right at the sign that read “Adirondack Park” driving up to a patrol station with a barrier blocking their progression.

“Howdy y’all” a park ranger greeted the boys’ as their car idled at the station. “You here for the day or planning on camping?”

“Day” Derek said at the same time Stiles said “Camping.”

“Need a minute to think about that?” the ranger laughed.

“No need to think, camping it is” Stiles interjected before Derek could speak up.

“Any particular park?” the ranger queried.

“Um yeah actually…” Stiles trailed off, looking through his notes “Alger Island?” Stiles finished ignoring Derek’s growl of frustration.

“Either of you have a boating licence? It’s boat only access, or canoe.”

Stiles eyed Derek waiting for him to pipe in – he did remember something about Derek going camping with his family when he was younger.

“Yes. I do” Derek replied clipped.

“Perfect!” the ranger said “That’ll be $18 and some paper work to fill out.”

“Pay the lovely man Derek” Stiles advised studiously pretending he was busy with the lose papers he was currently holding.

Derek shot Stiles a murderous look then finally took his wallet out handing the ranger $20 and took the papers the ranger handed him, only half listening as he explained the directions to get to the camp ground, where to get their boat and other tidbits. The ranger explained that they would need to turn around and follow a set of directions he had written down to get to the correct entrance to the park, so that they were closer to the island and where they could park.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” roared Derek as he backed his truck up to get back on the main road towards the correct park entrance. “Camping? You failed to mention that – not to mention we don’t have any camping supplies.”

“Like if I told you, you would have agreed” Stiles answered rolling his eyes. “Besides you heard the guy he said there was a supply store. We can buy everything we need.”

“We? WE?” Derek yelled “I’m not paying for jack shit in fact I should charge you more for this bullshit.”

“Eh, if we make it out alive I’ll think about adding a tip.”

Half an hour later after driving down winding dirt roads barely large enough to fit a VW Beetle let alone a pick-up truck Derek and Stiles made it to the right park entrance showing yet another park ranger their pass before the security bar was lifted allowing them to drive through. Derek followed the directions to the nearest car park.

“We don’t exactly have camping attire on do we?” Derek noted as he exited the car in a huff.

“We’ll make do” Stiles shrugged.

“You’re wearing loafers for fuck sakes.”

“Well call me damned. I’m touched that you care for my orthopaedic needs” Stiles cracked slinging his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t wait for Derek to reply, instead following the path that led to the nearest camping store ready to buy supplies.

Not even five minutes after the boys’ entered the log-cabin supply store did Stiles have an arm full of goods; picking up sleeping bags, thermal underwear and socks, flashlights, food and whatever else he could possibly carry. Soon enough Derek’s arms were full with even more goods, half of which they probably weren’t even going to need – Derek wondered why in God’s name they’d need a whistle.

“How do you expect to fit this all in the boat?” Derek mused.

“That’s why we have the boat in the first place” quipped Stiles. “We’re not swimming across the lake. Now shut up and quit complaining already.”

Although Derek was normally one able to keep his mouth shut, Stiles was pushing him to his wits end and he was seriously going to need a mouth guard in the future by the way he was grinding his teeth, jaw clenched to keep quiet.

“I’m not paying for this shit.” Derek stated.

“We’re still legally married – what’s mine is yours and all that” Stiles smirked.

“I signed the papers” growled Derek dropping the pile of goods he was carrying on top of a rack.

“What?” Stiles asked face falling. “When?”

“You had the papers couriered over to me” bellowed Derek. “No heads up or anything. I signed the papers a few days ago and sent it to the lawyers. You should be getting your copy soon.”

“Oh” Stiles whispered looking deflated. “Okay.”

Derek had enough; he shouldn’t feel bad for telling Stiles he signed the papers that Stiles had sent to him in the first place. It’s not as if it should come as a surprise to Stiles, he was the one that initiated the divorce after all. So why would Stiles act as if he was hurt or surprised? Derek refused to feel bad; he ground his teeth and turned on his heels walking out the store. He needed a few minutes to cool off; he sat on the bumper of his truck waiting for Stiles to re-emerge.

-

Stiles carried the camping supplies he already held to the register, dropping everything on the counter grateful there were no long lines. He was the only customer in the store. He walked back to try and pick up all the goods Derek had dropped in a haste on a rack, carrying those back over to the counter. The store clerk rung everything up and bagged them for Stiles, all the while talking about all the great places Stiles should check out – he wasn’t paying attention though.

Stiles had known that the divorce was pending; he knew that Derek was going to sign the papers sooner or later. He just never actually stopped to think about it, and what it meant. He was a fan of ignoring problems until they were swept away with the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Hearing that your husband, now to be ex-husband had signed the divorce papers when the two of them were supposed to be camping, in the wilderness with minimal distractions – well that was the opposite of ignoring the problem.

He carried as many bags as he could on both of his arms as they dangled hitting one another, while dragging the remaining bags behind him along the dirt ground as he made his way outside. He saw Derek sitting on the bumper, arms crossed staring off into space; glanced at Stiles carrying all the bags and then looked back away. Stiles let out a huff, and continued along dumping the bags at Derek’s feet.

“We might as well head to the boat depot now” he muttered.

“Fine” Derek replied snatching a few of the bags at his feet and a few more off of Stiles arms and stormed off leaving Stiles to follow behind.

Alright, so maybe Derek had a point they didn’t have a boat so much as a canoe – a tiny wooden canoe with two benches on opposite ends and the wooden support beams in the middle. How they were going to fit all their bags in the canoe, Stiles had no idea.

“So uh I guess we can make two trips?” Stiles tried.

Derek didn’t bother answer; grunting in response as he placed some of the bags in the canoe, placing some in the back, in the middle and in the front trying to even out the weight. He didn’t bother trying to be gentle, cramming the bags into every nook and cranny until the canoe was filled with white plastic bags only the two benches visible. He grabbed a paddle and shoved one into Stiles’ hand while he grabbed the other getting into the stern end of the boat, nodding his head for Stiles to get in the bow end.

“Wait” Stiles gulped standing on the safety of solid ground looking out at the lake, slightly worried. “So I’ve never actually done this before y’know?” Stiles asked hands flying about towards the canoe and the water.

“When has that ever stopped you?” Derek sighed.

“Aren’t there life jackets? You know so we don’t end up capsizing and end up going over a waterfall or something? Not how I imagined meeting my death. I was kind of counting on just dying in my sleep – in my old age.”

“Stiles, just get in. We’re not going to capsize. I have done this before” Derek said trying to reassure Stiles.

“Oh God, okay. Okay” he breathed, inhaling and exhaling as he stepped into the canoe. Stiles had barely gotten one foot in when Derek rocked the canoe from side to side just to see Stiles’ arms flail about as he tried to balance himself hurling himself into the safety of the canoe.

“Asshole!”

Derek smirked, obviously pleased with himself.

Once Stiles was settled in he turned around to see Derek stand up to push the canoe farther into the water, as they started floating in a wayward direction.

“Oh my God! What’s happening, I don’t know how to steer!” Stiles exclaimed as he thrashed around in the canoe which only caused it to float more wayward threatening to topple over. 

“Jesus Stiles just sit there!” boomed Derek. “I’ll steer it, just move the paddle in the water and don’t fucking move.”

“Okay, sheesh. Wouldn’t want to tip over and mess up your hair.” Stiles muttered as he put the paddle in the water and tried to move it like he saw people do in movies.

He didn’t know if he was actually contributing to the moving of the canoe or if Derek was really the one doing it but nonetheless he was glad to see that the canoe had finally set course, moving in a straight line towards an island in the distance lined with trees and pebbles. Stiles thought he could totally have a future as an Olympic canoer (was there even canoeing in the Olympics?) only to realise that after 10 minutes of paddling his arms were starting to grow tired. He apparently didn’t think this plan through; so he let his paddle drag through the water pretending to move it as Derek continued paddling hurtling the canoe along. If Derek noticed Stiles’ lack of help he didn’t say anything, probably still angry.

After what felt like hours of paddling (on Derek’s part) – but more along the lines of 10-15 minutes the two men finally arrived at Alger Island, pulling the canoe up on the shore so they could get their supplies and tie their canoe to stop it from floating away. Stiles took a quick survey of what parts of the island he could see, which wasn’t much – trees among trees, dirt, pebbles, birds and not a single other person in sight, no tents no smoke indicating a fire; nothing.

“You think it would have been busier considering it’s a long weekend” Stiles observed.

“What kind of idiot wants to camp on an island in complete isolation?” Derek sarcastically pointed out.

“You” Stiles shrugged. “You’re not Mr Personality of the year are you?”

Derek wouldn’t give Stiles the satisfaction of agreeing; because if this were any other time, for example when he was younger and camping with his family, they used to camp in places like these. Away from people, because after all camping was an escape from reality and an escape from everyday life. The Hale’s didn’t find sitting around a camp fire with other amateur campers – who in Derek’s humble opinion were amateurs because many of them camped in caravans and trailers rather than a tent – singing camp songs was relaxing.

He batted Stiles’ hand away as he attempted to open up the tent and set it up in the first spot he could find. Clearly Stiles fell into the amateur camper category. He ordered Stiles to sit still while he put the tent together because he knew Stiles would only hinder his progress than actually provide any help; all the while Stiles sat pouting.

“What now?” Derek huffed as he straightened up, finished building the tent.

“We find the Blood Man Pack” Stiles shrugged eyes scanning over a map spread out across his lap. “By getting to… Big Moose Lake; or so my sources tell me.”

“How the hell do you plan on getting there?” enquired Derek.

Derek watched Stiles jump up from where he was perched to rummage around the multiple bags of shopping he’d bought earlier on, searching for something – Derek didn’t know what for.

“Ah-ha! With this” Stiles exclaimed holding up a large enough device to fit in the palm of Stiles’ hand that boasted a large screen with a few buttons and little joy stick at the bottom. “This bad boy is going to get us to Big Moose Lake; and not end up in Canada somewhere, although I could use some maple syrup.”

“How much did you even pay for that?” Derek ridiculed; he was no idiot he knew the price range those GPS devices could reach, especially ones that were equipped to take people on a trek through a large reserve, none of which had any actual roads to be accessed by.

“That’s beside the point” Stiles answered. “Now I just need to figure out how to use this thing” he finished, scrunching his face up as he read the back of the box the GPS came in.

“Give me that” Derek sighed snatching the GPS out of Stiles’ hand to turn it on and program it.

“Oh why thank you Mr Cave Man” Stiles quipped banging his hands on his chest – trying to impersonate a cave man, as he watched Derek play around with the GPS. Stiles wondered how the hell Derek even knew how to use that thing considering when they first met back when Stiles was in high school Derek hardly knew how to use a computer and didn’t own a TV with more than 3 or 4 channels.

“What the hell would you have done if I weren’t here?” Derek asked grabbing and slinging a backpack on walking back towards their canoe. “This is costing you extra.”

Stiles scrambled to grab his own backpack shoving in a few more essentials, along with his notes and other work before running to keep up with Derek – who was already pushing the canoe back into the water.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adirondack Park is actually a park in New York as are the places mentioned within the park but other than that, everything else is made up in terms of where everything is.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Stiles asked, eyes darting all around the canoe taking in the vast waters they were currently in. He could see in the far distance the line of receding trees but not much more than that.

“Shut up Stiles” Derek grumbled paddling farther and farther away from the promise of land and trees and solid ground.

Stiles gulped, hands tightly gripped on either side of the canoe as if that was going to steady the already rocking boat. He had long given up on helping Derek steer the canoe in the right direction and Derek hadn’t asked for Stiles help. He tried and failed to keep his eyes from peering over the edge of the canoe into the water – wrong decision. He closed his eyes and thought of England; or whatever it was you were supposed to think of to keep calm. He reminded himself that this was for work; he was getting paid to do this. And if this story panned out, it would be huge. It didn’t really help the panic rising up, as he felt his throat starting to close up – panic starting to take over.

“Stiles. **Stiles** ” Derek repeated as he put the paddle across his lap so he could reach his hand up to Stiles’ shoulder to get his attention. “Just – breath.”

“Thanks” Stiles gasped out his hands fisted in his eyes. “That h-helps a person during a panic attack.”

Derek squeezed Stiles shoulder almost just willing the younger man to calm down because the last thing Derek needed was Stiles to start flailing around in the canoe – in the middle of a fucking lake, before they were both tipped over into the freezing cold water. He kept up the pressure on Stiles’ shoulder until he felt his breathing start to even out and Stiles removed his hands from his eyes.

“Okay. Okay, sorry” Stiles murmured not turning around to meet Derek’s eyes.

Derek removed his hand to take a look at the GPS and then put the paddle back into the water starting to steer the canoe. “Look, over there” Derek interrupted Stiles’ even breathing. “Land.”

“Oh thank fuck” Stiles whispered holding his backpack up close to his chest. “You know, life jackets might have been a smart purchase.”

“You can swim” Derek pointed out.

“Not during a fucking panic attack.”

Derek rolled his eyes and continued paddling closing the distance to the main land. He was repeatedly wondering why the hell he agreed to this – when he remembered the promise of money, both from Stiles and his boss for bringing Stiles in. He was seriously starting to consider calling this whole thing off, this was turning into more work than it was worth.

“Out. Pull the canoe up on the shore” Derek ordered.

Stiles considered complaining, telling Derek to do it, but he knew better than to push his luck – not that that stopped him anyway.

“You’re not going to make me get out and then leave me here, stranded are you?” Stiles asked tentatively turning around to eye Derek. At this point Stiles really wouldn’t put it past Derek, and the last thing he needed was to be stuck in the middle of God knows where – on his own.

“I’m thinking about it now” said Derek blowing out a puff of air. “No you dumbass. I get **paid** to bring you in” Derek pointed out.

Stiles rambled something about oh yeah, and money money money before he got out of the canoe and attempted to pull it up on shore. Only Derek was still in the canoe which meant it weight a tonne and he ended up falling flat on his ass on the hard pebbles as he was squatted attempting to pull the boat. He groaned rolling on his side so he didn’t squish all his belongings in his backpack shutting his eyes telling Derek to go on without him. Ever the dramatic Stiles Stilinski was.

“Where now?” Derek asked pulling the canoe up without much effort to stash it under a group of trees and bushes.

“Good question Hale” Stiles answered spinning in a circle trying to catch his bearings.

“Do I have to do everything?” Derek grumbled looking at the GPS, setting off in a random direction through a group of trees closely wound together.

“Hey! Hey, where are you going? Wait for me!” Stiles called out running after Derek ducking in between the trees. That’s when Stiles saw a worn out and fading “No Trespassers” sign that used to be nailed to a tree but was now lopsided and hanging.

Stiles didn’t know whether to take that as a sign that they were getting closer to the Blood Moon Pack or just an old sign that Park Rangers had posted years ago. From Stiles research on Big Moose Lake, it’s been abandoned for years and hikers or campers weren’t to enter the area – not that it was going to stop Stiles. Because seriously? If you don’t want people entering an area it would probably be smart to have a better security system than a “No Trespassing” sign.

“What do you plan on doing when you find these people?” Derek questioned from where he was walking a few yards ahead of Stiles.

“Interview them” Stiles stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“A gang or cult or whatever these people are, they’re just going to talk to you?”

“I can be persuasive when I want to be.”

“Right” Derek snorted under his breath keeping up his brisk pace leaving Stiles behind.

After about 45 minutes of walking, Derek realised that he had to slow down his pace for Stiles to actually keep up. The last thing Derek wanted to do was wander around this stupid vast forest looking for a lost Stiles, and if Stiles got lost he knew he’d have to. Not because he cared, nope. Because he had to bring Stiles in to get paid, that’s all that mattered.

“Could you walk any slower?” Stiles exclaimed at the same time he tripped over a branch landing on his hands and knees in a pile of dirt and leaves.

“Evidently I need to if you can’t even stand on your feet” Derek sighed turning around to see Stiles struggling to stand up again, brushing his hands and knees to rid it of any traces of dirt.

“Whatever, let’s just go” Stiles grunted pushing past Derek to lead the way.

Derek mimicked Stiles only because he knew Stiles couldn’t see him now that he was ahead of Derek, and really Derek had had enough of this stupid trip or work trip whatever you wanted to call it. His mind kept wandering to the sex he could have been having with Simon; and also being in the comfort of his loft apartment or at a bar. Instead, he was traipsing through the forest looking for an imaginary group of people – all in the name of money. Though it’s better than love surely?

As they continued their journey farther into the forest, farther away from their canoe and their camp ground on a completely different island did Derek start to realise the little signs of life and activity. Some of the trees had marks on them, not from nature or from any animals but it looked like gouges made from a weapon, an arrow or spear maybe. He saw track marks on the hard dirt that looked like foot prints, and where grass was trampled from something too large to be any forest animal. Unless there were bears here and Derek hoped for Stiles’ sake there weren’t any bears – he’d freak out. Again, Derek told himself it’s not his job to worry about Stiles and his fears or whatever they were.

“We must be getting close” Derek mused – thinking that maybe Stiles wasn’t as much of a gullible idiot as he had initially thought. Maybe this tribe was real.

“Oh really? Have you seen anyone in the past how many hours we’ve been walking?” Stiles grumbled steadying himself as he walked. Not long after he tripped and embarrassed himself in front of Derek he found a branch that could be used as a walking stick which proved very helpful. He was able to steady himself more easily and it helped pull his lazy ass up any hills they encountered.

“Actually yes” said Derek “Stiles – wait, Stiles!” Derek yelled as he pounced the last little gap of distance between himself and Stiles trying to pull him back, but it was too late.

“What the -” Stiles screeched as he felt himself and Derek’s grasp on his backpack being hoisted into the air captured in a dark brown mesh net. Stiles was on his back, one leg dangling through the netting and Derek half on top of him half on the netting as the contraption swayed back and forth in the air. “Are you kidding me” cried Stiles hysterically.

“I told you to wait” Derek yelled trying to push himself off of Stiles, not that there was a lot of room to move in their new confines.

“How was I supposed to know there was a fucking trap” yelled Stiles. “Get us out, get us out!” he ordered.

“How do you expect me to do that?” growled Derek.

Not that Stiles was listening. He didn’t have that many fears, not really. But being stuck in small confines, that was definitely one of them, near the very top of the list. To be stuck in a small confine, in the fucking air, with your ex-husband well that topped the whole God damn list. It’s been years since he’s had a panic attack, probably when he was still a teenager – never the less he felt like his throat was closing in, stopping his breath. He shut his eyes trying to breath in and out bringing his hands up to his ears to block out any noise – it wasn’t happening. Twice in one day? Perfect.

“Stiles? Hey, Stiles” Derek tried grabbing hold of the front of Stiles’ shirt trying to get his attention. “Listen to me” he instructed giving Stiles a hard tug – until he opened his eyes.

Stiles peered out through one eye still trying to calm himself.

“Just… Breath” Derek tried again. “It’s not going to do you any good freaking out and swinging this net everywhere.”

“Gee – thanks. Again.” Stiles sniffled.

“Your second panic attack in the span of 12 hours – was this really such a good idea?” Derek questioned.

“Oh you know what, you’re right Derek. This wasn’t a good idea, what do you say we get out of here and go back to the city? Oh wait, we’re fucking **trapped** ” Stiles snapped.

Derek ignored Stiles’ sarcastic remark – years of being together taught him that handy little trick before he spoke next. “Check your bag for a knife or something sharp.”

“I thought you had a knife.”

“I **did**.” Derek growled “It’s on the ground in my backpack when I tried to grab for you.”

“Oh” Stiles gulped trying to resituate himself so that he could pull his bag off of his back. It was a lot of awkward movements and swinging of the net, bumping into Derek when he finally got the bag. He opened it up digging through, only to find bags upon bags of food, some water and all his notes. No knife, nothing sharp.

“What kind of idiot doesn’t have a knife?” Derek sighed.

“At least I have provisions – of the food variety” Stiles tried holding up the food offering Derek a granola bar.

“Fuck sakes” Derek said grabbing the granola bar from Stiles, ripping it opening and taking a bite.

Once Derek had finished eating his granola he closed his eyes trying to devise a plan on how the hell they were going to get out of here – before whoever created this trap found them. If they had a knife, a pocket knife, hell a fucking staple he would have been sawing away at any part of the netting that he could. He didn’t care if they were going to have to plummet down to the ground, anything would beat swimming around in a tree like fucking Tarzan. No, not even like Tarzan because he wouldn’t get himself stuck in a tree – and Derek really thought he needed to stop thinking about Tarzan. If they were at least near any more branches they might have been able to swing, grab hold and work from there – but they were too far.

None the less Derek instructed Stiles to try and swing the net in tandem to see if it were at all possible to grab hold of one of the branches and try and escape that way. Or at the very least be able to break off a piece of the branch to try and saw their way free. After a few unsuccessful attempts Stiles started to complain saying his leg was cramping up and no wonder, considering it was still stuck in the netting. Derek knew trying to swing the net on his own wasn’t going to work so he reluctantly stopped, letting the net swing back and forth until it lost momentum and they were once again trapped in mid-air.

“Oh God my leg, my -” Stiles started before Derek cut him off telling him to “shh” and he was about to say something to that when he heard a twig snap and what sounded like shuffling of feet.

Both of the men spun their heads around trying to find the source of the noise – when they saw a group of four or five men emerge from behind a group of bushes; wearing wolf masks, a breechcloth, worn often by Native Americans, barely covering their junk or ass showcasing their thighs and no shirt, carrying spears.

“Oh my God!” Stiles whispered. “They’re real!” 

“Shut up” Derek ordered staring down the men who now stood directly underneath them.

“So sorry to just show up uninvited” Stiles went on, ignoring Derek’s quiet growls. “But we come in peace – complete and utter peace. I vote green party! Not that you guys probably even vote, but I assure you, you’d approve” he babbled on.

Stiles couldn’t see the men’s eyes, as they were covered by the masks so he just watched them standing there staring up at him and Derek, not saying a word.

“No English?” Stiles questioned. “Spanish? I know a little Spanish and French but after that nothing. Derek what about you?”

“ **Shut. Up** ” Derek enunciated.

The group of men below still said nothing, circling the netting. One of them, the largest, raised his spear and started to poke around the netting at the two men trapped.

“Ow! Hey, watch the goods man” Stiles screeched trying to move out of the way of the spear currently attacking his ass, not that there was anywhere he could even move.

The large man below – probably the leader, let out a bark of laughter continuing the jabbing motion as the others joined in now poking both Stiles and Derek. They both let out groans trying to fidget around in the small enclosure to get away from the jabbing without much avail – until the men finally ceased. They stood there a few minutes longer grabbing hold of Derek’s backpack, just staring before they were leaving the same way they’d come – through the group of bushes.

“HEY!” Stiles yelled out to them. “AREN’T YOU AT LEAST GOING TO CUT US DOWN?!”

They tribesmen said nothing nor turned around – predictable.

“Oh God you don’t think they’re going to warm up the cauldron do you?” Stiles asked. “They’re going to make a Derek/Stiles stew al dente.”

“That’s for vegetables or pasta” Derek interrupted.

“What? Seriously that’s what you’re correcting me on!” Stiles screeched. “Are you not concerned that we could become dinner?”

“They’re not actual wolves Stiles” Derek sighed.

“That doesn’t mean they don’t have clinical lycanthropy! They may very well believe they’re wolves, which means we might be dinner! This is so not how I thought it would end.” 

“Really? You never envisioned dying at the hands of a tribe made up of pretend wolves?” Derek replied sarcastically.

“No” Stiles deadpanned. “I thought I would be old, and just die in my sleep. No pain.”

Derek groaned closing his eyes and resting his head against the netting. He was so done with this conversation – now really was the time for them to get out of here before those men came back. He just hoped they hadn’t tracked their movements and found their canoe. Without any canoe they were basically trapped on this island with a bunch of archaic men.

Every time Stiles went to open his mouth to say something – anything, Derek didn’t care what it was, he gave him the death glare just daring him to speak. Stiles for once in his life thought it was smart to just keep his damn mouth closed – at least for now. Besides, he didn’t know if Derek was trying to devise a plan so he might as well. There was no way he was becoming a Stiles Stilinski stew, nope. Not happening.

It was midway during the night after both men ate some more granola bars that Stiles found buried underneath a change of clothes some beef jerky. He whooped pulling it out and handed it to Derek.

“You don’t like beef jerky” Derek commented but still taking the jerky – he was starving and granola bars were hardly masking his hunger and growling stomach.

“But you do” Stiles shrugged – or at least tried to in the netting. “I saw it at the counter when I was paying for everything, so I bought some.”

“Surprised you care” Derek muttered taking a large chunk out of the jerky.

“It’s not hard to remember what you liked” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek even though he probably couldn’t see in the darkness.

“Right” Derek snorted.

“No need to get snarky” said Stiles.

“Whatever.” Derek retorted – because he was clearly in high school. “Because what I love is to come home to divorce papers on the table.”

“What? It’s – it’s not like it was a surprise!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Not a surprise” bellowed Derek. “I was under the impression we were going through a rough patch but going to work on it. Not run to a divorce lawyer.”

“Rough patch?” Stiles screeched “A rough patch is no sex for a month. This was about children; we were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum! I read in Cosmo what happens to couples who disagree about children.”

“Cosmo?” Derek questioned. “You read Cosmo?”

“It was Lydia’s” Stiles lied – not that Derek would know he was lying. “Besides, they have good articles in there and as a journalist I’m a fan of all sorts of writing styles. Anyway, that’s not the point!”  

“You didn’t even talk to me Stiles” Derek replied level-headed. “You went behind my back and filed those papers.”

“So I filed them first?” Stiles ridiculed. “We both knew it was coming.”

“No we didn’t” Derek growled. “I never wanted a divorce, I never even considered it.”

“Oh” Stiles whispered into the cool night air. He was a little more than happy that it was so dark out. They’d never had a conversation about the pending divorce, it all sort of just happened and the ball kept rolling from there. Stiles had just planned to get the papers signed and move on, avoid the whole confrontation thing. Apparently being stuck in mesh netting suspended in the air hindered that avoidance tactic.

“So that’s what it was? You beating me to the punch” Derek ridiculed. “Hurting me before I could hurt you?”

“No. Yes. I guess so” Stiles replied so quietly Derek almost didn’t hear it.

“I was never going to hurt you Stiles” Derek sighed. “But you were right about beating me to the punch. You win; you hurt me before I could hurt you.”

And that was that, Derek didn’t have anything else to say and Stiles was too stunned to even come up with a response – sarcastic or otherwise. It was a few minutes later that Stiles heard the soft snores emanating from Derek. He was happy that he was alone (as alone as you could be trapped) and didn’t have Derek there to listen in as he felt tears starting to sting the back of his eyes. All along he thought Derek had been unhappy once Stiles had said he didn’t want kids; he was convinced that Derek was going to walk away. And Derek was right; Stiles just wanted to beat him to the punch and filed the papers first.

He thought he’d get a little satisfaction of being the one to walk away from Derek, to hurt him. All that time when they first met and Stiles was awkward and fumbling trying to get Derek’s attention when he was in high school. He always thought Derek was too good for him, too cool, too good looking. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Derek to come to his sense. But Derek never did, and their relationship just kept progressing.

Was Derek serious, was he not going to walk away? Stiles wondered if they should have tried harder, gone to counselling or something? Surely they weren’t the only couple in the world where one spouse wanted children and the other didn’t. It was too late now, anyway.

Stiles doesn’t know when exactly he fell asleep but he knew it was to the lull of Derek’s soft snoring. The snores that used to drive him crazy when they were married – but also the snores he hasn’t heard in over a year and came to miss.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Huh? What? Ow” Stiles yelped when he woke up the following morning, forgetting that he was still suspended in the air, leg still trapped. “It’s a good thing I don’t get air sickness. Food?” he asked rummaging through his bag.

“I’m good” Derek replied trying to stretch.

“Soooo” he drawled out. “Plan of action this morning?”

“Give me your bag” Derek ordered holding his hand out.

“What why?” Stiles asked clutching his bag to his chest.

“Because there might be something in there to use to get out of this fucking thing.”

Stiles sighed handing his bag over to Derek telling him to be careful of all his notes and to not get them crumpled. The last thing he needed was to actually survive this hellhole and lose all his notes and not be able to write his story. That would just be an epic fail and a cherry on top of this shit-astic weekend.

Stiles eyed Derek trying to see if he could decipher any sort of emotion coming from Derek especially after last night’s big revelation. Except Derek’s face was masked void of any emotion other than the furrow of his brows.

Derek rummaged through the bag trying to get to the bottom without dropping any of Stiles’ goods down to the ground below, before he had to listen to Stiles rant hours on ends. He found nothing that would be useful in getting them the hell out, when he opened the side zippers on Stiles’ backpack and found buried under a pack of tissues a lighter. He shoved the bag back at Stiles, holding up the lighter with his eyebrow raised as if he’d never seen such a thing before.

“Oh hell no” Stiles said. “There’s no way you’re using that to get us out of here!”

“You think I like this idea any better?” Derek growled looking up to meet Stiles’ eyes.

And that’s when Stiles finally caught on. He really could be such an idiot sometimes. The Hale fire. Derek wanting to light the mesh netting to get them out of there spoke volumes of how badly he wanted to get the hell out of here if was willing to set the very thing he was in on fire.

“Do you think it will work?” Stiles questioned looking around at the netting as if instructions on how to get up would suddenly pop up out of the blue.

“If we light one section, hopefully it’ll create a little hole that we can rip, it should work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“The whole thing sets alight?” Derek deadpanned.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny Stiles. But do you have a better idea?”

Stiles shook his head no. As much as he hated this idea, he knew Derek probably hated it even more. Derek also had a point; this was their only option of getting out. He watched Derek try and manoeuvre himself so that he was on Stiles’ side of the netting, awkwardly sitting on Stiles’ lap. Derek tried to move his legs and Stiles’ one free leg away from the other side of the netting so Derek could set light to it.

“Give me that shirt in your bag” Derek said.

“What for?” Stiles asked even though he already handed the shirt to Derek.

“Just in case this goes horribly wrong we can try and tame the flames.”

Stiles didn’t even try to hold back his groan hugging himself trying to push himself as far away from the opposite side of the netting as he could. He watched as Derek stuck his hand through a gap in the netting to hold the lighter under the net and flick the lighter on. Derek kept it on for as long as he could moving it back and forth under the netting trying to get the net warm without actually setting the whole thing on fire. He continued the process for a few minutes without much success growling in frustration.

“Bury your face and try not to breathe in” Derek instructed using his free hand, the one not holding the lighter to cover his mouth and nose as he held the lighter even closer to the netting. Derek watched as the netting start to spark a little catching flame causing a horrible smell with little puffs of smoke. He kept the action up until the fire started to expand, the netting falling away. He quickly threw the shirt on top of the flames and attempted to stamp it as hard as he could with his foot trying to put out the fire.

“No. Nope, this is a bad idea Derek! I’d rather not fall to my death. This face is too pretty to be mangled.”

“It’s that or wait for those guys to get back” Derek huffed through the sleeve of his shirt still covering his face. He grabbed hold of the netting with both hands trying to pull apart the burnt bits to make a hole wide enough for them to drop through. Or as Stiles put it, to fall to their death. It was between that and waiting for these tribesmen to come back.

“Derek! Derek, the hole’s getting bigger. What’s exactly your plan-” but Stiles didn’t get to finish his line of questioning as he felt himself pummelling to the ground with no chance of trying to grab on to anything – not that there was anything to grab on to in the first place.

If their plan of action was to try and remain quiet so as not to draw attention to themselves, they failed miserably. Or at least Stiles did because there was no denying the blood curdling scream that escaped his mouth when he felt his stomach drop on the way down.

Derek landed on his side; the side of his head colliding with the hard ground with a loud grunt. He rolled on his back immediately to close his eyes try and stop the thudding he already felt coming before he felt the sharp pain of someone colliding right on top of him mere seconds later. Stiles. Stiles half landed on Derek – at least some sort of cushioning as opposed to the ground; though with Derek’s hard muscles, it was probably more painful than the ground itself.

Stiles’ head hit Derek’s shoulder right on the joint before he felt his backpack land in a thud on his back and seriously what the hell did he have in that bag? Because it felt like a tonne weight landing on top of him. He belatedly saw his papers tumbling out of his bag and blowing around in the wind but he didn’t have it in him to care at the minute.

“Jesus mother fucker!” Stiles moaned as he tried to sit up only to lie back down. “Derek?”

“Yeah” he grunted in response. “Are you okay?”

“I think so” Stiles answered finally managing to sit up and scoot a little ways away from Derek, and not remain half on top of him. He patted his chest, down to his abs and legs, cupping his crotch making sure everything was intact. “All good.”

“Your lips bleeding” Derek pointed out as he sat up, extending his hand to swipe across Stiles’ bottom lip that had little red droplets falling down onto his shirt. “You must have bit it on the way down.”

“Oh” said Stiles licking his lips to rid himself of the blood. “If that’s the worst injury from this whole little scenario I think I did pretty well.”

Both men stood up not bothering to dust themselves of the dirt that had now become a permanent top layer to their clothing. Derek felt a twinge in his knee that he knew must have been from the fall; he was in perfect health before any of this. On the bright side when he looked over at Stiles, he was moving just fine – apparently now noticing his papers flying about in the lea they were in as he tried to scramble to pick them up and shove them back in his backpack.

“Shh!” Derek ordered when he thought he heard some rustling coming from the bushes that the tribesmen had come through yesterday. “I think they’re back” he whispered.

“What?” Stiles barely got out below a whisper. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Run!” he barked.

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, running in Derek’s direction. He got a few inches ahead of Derek when he finally turned his head around to see Derek struggling to keep up, which although yes Stiles got away from Derek back in Battery Park; he wasn’t normally this slow. He slowed down to back track his way to Derek grabbing hold of Derek’s arm and throwing it over his shoulder so he could half run half carry Derek. Of course trying to run with a 200 pound man made of pure muscle wasn’t easy and it slowed them down significantly.

“It’s okay, I’ll catch up” Derek breathed out though he made no effort to remove his arm from around Stiles’ shoulder.

“Yeah right” Stiles wheezed out. “You think I’m going to be able to canoe back on my own. You’re my compass.”

If Derek could, he would have snorted. Because as much as Stiles was a sarcastic little shit, and no doubt if they did make it back to the canoe he’d still make Derek row back. But no, more than that, Stiles always put other people ahead of himself if someone was in trouble – there was no way he’d have left Derek behind.

They soon heard the rustling and incoherent shouts from multiple people trailing behind them closing the distance. Stiles started to panic trying to pull Derek along even faster though he had no idea what direction he was supposed to be heading. Just so long as they kept running away from these crazy people, and he just hoped they didn’t end up running right off a cliff. How ironic would that be? They got away from the tribesmen and escaping a gruesome death to only fall face first over a cliff.

For the second time in less than 10 minutes Stiles felt the air being crushed out of him as he was tackled to the ground – Derek falling to the ground with him. They both let out simultaneous groans as they felt their arms being pulled behind their backs crossed over and being tied with a piece of rope. Stiles was seriously starting to have problems with rope. Thank God him and Derek never tied each other up with ropes in their past – if they had he’d be emotionally scarred right about now.

“Hey hey. Delicate bones here. I haven’t had my proper intake of calcium” Stiles grumbled when he was hauled to his feet.

“What about this one?” one of the tribesmen asked of Derek; not the leader from the previous night, a smaller yet still considerably built man – his voice muffled by the same wolf mask.

“English! Have you given up on the air of mystique from last night?” Stiles asked. “Because I’ve gotta say not as intimidating.”

Stiles was pushed into the nearest tree; his face squished against the prickly bark as the tribesman crowed in behind him.

“Okay. Still have the intimidation factor; no need to flash those peacock feathers. I get it” Stiles mumbled out as he felt like what seemed a thousand little needles digging into his cheek where it was pushed up against the tree.

He was pulled away from the tree and pushed forward heading in the direction the men had come from earlier. Obviously heading back to base, or their huts or wherever they inhabited. He couldn’t see where Derek was but he could tell he was somewhere behind him being led in the same direction if the number of footsteps were anything to go back – not to mention the little grunts and growls Derek let out every few seconds.

Derek was seething that he got caught, that he let Stiles get caught. If it hadn’t been for his stupid knee giving out from the fall they could have made their escape. For the second time in the last 48 hours he not only managed to let Stiles escape in the first place – landing them in this stupid forest and then to get caught by these men. He was an ex-cop for fuck sakes, he’s gotten hundreds of criminals and arrested them; he’s caught a handful of criminals on the run since he’s been working for Boyd.

“So where’s the big guy from last night? The chief? King Mufasa?” Stiles asked.

No reply.

“I hope that doesn’t make you Scar” he continued.

“Stiles. Shut up” Derek growled from where he was keeping pace behind Stiles.

“Stiles? What the hell is a Stiles?” Scar asked.

“You’re looking at him big guy. Wait can you even see anything through those masks?”

Still, no reply.

It didn’t take them long before they entered a clearing littered with a dozen or so tipis. The tipis were all decorated differently but just as beautiful, some with paintings of a pack of wolves, some with just a sun, and others with buffalos and the rest a variation of different designs. They were circled around a large fire pit which was then circled by logs which Stiles assumed was for seating.

At the entrance to every tipi stood a totem pole with different designs which Stiles remembered from some show or class project served as an emblem for each of the families or their rights. There was a much larger totem pole set back behind the tipis but in the middle large enough to see from a far distance – perched on the top was a wooden sculpted wolf face.

Despite Scar and the rest of the men that were with him when they attacked Stiles and Derek; the other people in the clearing didn’t wear any masks. Their faces were bare, eyes visible and laughs from the children echoing throughout. All the adults in the clearing continued on with their daily work doing whatever they were doing, cooking something over the fire, sewing or talking amongst each other; not even bothering to look up at the entrance of two new people. However, the children immediately stopped their running and screaming and laughter to stop and stare. They inched closer trying to get a look at the two new people; scared to get too close before they attacked. Not that Stiles or Derek could with their arms bound behind their backs.

Derek looked at the faces of every child; all staring up at him and Stiles like they were aliens, their eyes in awe with small smiles across their face. Despite himself, and the situation he was in he couldn’t help but give a little smile to the children; despite what their parents or whoever these tribesmen were to them, they were only children, innocent children. Innocent until they were taught otherwise. The small children all beamed back up at Derek; creeping even closer not that he looked less threatening.

Stiles eyes flittered around the whole area trying to take in as much as he could. He took in the tipis, totem poles, the people working, and the children. If he made it out of here, he needed to remember every single detail to write about it. He noticed the adults, although not all particularly large they had muscles or were well defined, poised to attack.

They were led across the clearing past all the people and commotion to the biggest tipi at the back yet still centered. Obviously where the Big Guy lived; the Big Kahuna or whatever he may be called. One of the tribesmen opened the flaps to the tipi – pulling it away so that they could see inside, before they were being pushed in and the flap closing behind them losing all the lighting. Stiles was plopped down on one stool woven out of some sort of fabric while Derek was placed in a similar stool on the opposite side. They felt their arms being freed as the men cut their restraints – rubbing over their sore wrists and double checking that there were no bruises. There were.

“Ever heard of privacy?” Stiles complained when he saw Scar ransacking through his backpack dropping things to the floor. “Hey that’s expensive!” when he saw Scar take his expensive digital camera out of his bag.

“You two on your honeymoon?” Scar asked toying with the camera. “I thought couples chose to go somewhere warm? Never understood the concept myself.”

“Maybe because you’ve never been married” Stiles scoffed.

“Oh but young one, I am married. To the most beautiful woman. Not only that but I have four beautiful children. What I don’t understand is the idea of getting away on a “ _honeymoon._ ” People should already live in their paradise and never want to leave.”

“Huh, kind of philosophical” Stiles nodded. “Is that what you teach your children then, engrain into their brains that they shouldn’t ever leave? Experience the real world?”

“The real world?” laughed Scar. “The world that consists of murders and terrorism, senseless violence and ignorance? Where we live – here – this is as real as it gets.”

“Says the cult that sells drugs.”

“ **Stiles** ” Derek barked but it was too late. Scar’s face turned to stone, anger flaring up and it looked like he really was poised to attack when the Chief? (Stiles had too many nicknames floating around in that brain of his) came in.

“Ah my guests. I do hope you’ve been taken proper care of” the Chief grinned moving around his tipi.

“We’ve been manhandled!” yelled Stiles.

“I do apologise for my men. We’re not used to – visitors. Normally they pose a threat. Are you two injured?” and the Chief had the decency to look concerned his eyes roaming over Stiles before his eyes roamed over Derek. “Let me get my wife – she’ll fix you two up.”

“It’s fine. We’ll just be on our way” Derek replied gruffly as he tried to stand.

“Nonsense” the Chief answered – exiting the tipi to call to someone.

A beautiful woman probably in her early to mid-forties with fair skin entered soon after, taking in the two young men – making her way to a little trunk set up at one end of the tipi opening it up and removing some contents. She exited and came back quickly with a jug of water, and poured it into a bowl. She went to Stiles first, dipping a cloth she’d gotten from the trunk into the water to try and wipe Stiles’ face and the traces of lingering dirt.

“I’m fine thank you very much” gritted Stiles.

“You have a few scrapes on your face” the woman explained. “It won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

“Because you all seem trustworthy” muttered Stiles, yet he found himself yielding to the woman – she had soft brown eyes, a bit darker than Stiles’ own, but they seemed harmless, caring. Just like his mother’s eyes used to be.

“My name is Aiyana and you two are?” the woman asked.

“Stiles. That’s Derek” Stiles found himself answering.

“I don’t know whether you two are smart or dumb” she whispered a smile spreading across her face.

“I’m the brains, he’s the Braun.”

Aiyana giggled as she turned around to eye Derek and then finished up on Stiles’ face telling him he was all patched up. She got up and made her way to Derek to sit near him. Derek let out what could only be considered a growl tensing up and moving away, if only marginally from Aiyana.

“That knee doesn’t look too good” she stated.

“Time heals all wounds” drawled Derek as Stiles’ laugh filled the room – wasn’t Stiles supposed to be the smartass?

“A man full of pride. So much so that he thinks it’s beneath him to ask for help” Aiyana said raising her eyebrow. “How has that worked out for you in the past?”

 Derek sighed stretching his injured knee out and raising his jeans up so that Aiyana could attend to it. She went back to rummage through the trunk coming back with some sort of ointment that smelt horrendous, Derek had to cough back a gag. She rubbed it on his knee and it had some sort of cooling sensation that felt oddly relaxing. She bandaged his knee up and told him he’d be good as new in a few hours, a day at most. Derek doubted it; there was no way it was going to heal that quickly.

-

“So uh what was the point of patching us up if you’re just going to maim and kill us?” Stiles asked once Aiyana had left and they were once alone again with the Chief.

“I have no interest in killing you. I’m more interested in what you’re doing here.”

“I’m a journalist” Stiles admitted.

“A journalist?” The Chief laughed. “There’s no story to be told here. I suppose I’ll have to show you.”

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Adahy led the two men out of the tipi only to be swarmed not only by the children but some of the men of the tribe as well. All wore similar articles of clothing, without the masks and holding what looked like hand carved wooden lacrosse sticks with the netting perfectly strung.

“Chief are we still on?” one of the men asked as he tossed and caught a small ball that looked to be made of worn leather straps knotted together to make a small lacrosse ball.

Adahy looked at the man then to Stiles and Derek when a smirk crossed his face. “Some say,” Adahy started, turning on his heels to face Stiles and Derek. “That lacrosse used to be played to settle disputes. Of course back then, it was also used to toughen people up and could last for days on end. I’ll make you a deal, you walk away and never return, no harm no foul _or_ , you stay and play, your team wins I’ll answer whatever questions you have for your article so long as discretion is used. You lose, well…”

“Deal” Stiles cut in not bothering to hear the rest of the deal at the same time Derek said “We’ll leave.”

The Chief crossed his arms looking between the two men waiting for them to come to an agreement.

“Are you crazy?” Stiles whispered. “This is my chance to get everything I need for the article, we’re playing!”

“And his open ended threat?” Derek growled

“We’ll play” Stiles said ignoring Derek, he turned back to face the chief.

“Have you ever played?” one of the tribesmen asked as he snickered.

“I happened to play in high school” Stiles grunted. “Now hand me a stick.”

Well yes, he did play in high school – barely though. But hey, he’s practiced hours on end with Scott, he knows the basics. He doesn’t know if the same can  be said about Derek though, other than coming to lurk at some of Stiles’ games back in high school, Stiles has never seen Derek with a lacrosse stick in hand.

“Get them the spare crosses’” the Chief ordered one of the young children who scampered off to fetch them. “Now, since you two seem to be an opposing ends on just about everything, you’ll play on the same team, team work. Now listen clearly as I explain the rules.”

The rules. They’re hardly like anything Stiles’ remembered from his high school days. For one thing, there was no set boundaries instead taking place over the vast expanse of the woods, littered with trees that Stiles was undoubtedly probably going to run into at one point or another. The turf, was hardly proper grass or turf but rocky terrain, what fun that’s going to be. There weren’t any proper netting for a goal, but between a set of trees clearly marked. The worst thing? No proper protective gear, it was buck up or bow out.

 “Uh, these sticks aren’t exactly functional…” Stiles trailed off as the little kid handed Derek and him their sticks, he put his hand through the area where the netting should be for emphasis. “Not trying to cheat to win are you?”

“Half the game is stringing your own crosse, weeds out the weak ones. You two have 20 minutes, netting is in that tipi over there” Adahy said pointing towards a tipi a little distance away.

-

“I don’t know how to string a fucking stick Stiles” Derek grumbled throwing the netting across the tipi in a tantrum after he gave up trying to copy Stiles’ exact movements.

“Maybe if you paid attention at my games and not so busy staring at my gorgeous face. Relax, I’ll do yours in a minute” Stiles added on quickly when he saw Derek about to complain, _yet again._

20 minutes isn’t a lot of time to string together two sticks, not when one participant can’t even do it himself, thank you very much Derek. Certainly not when it’s been quite a few years since Stiles has even looked at a crosse let alone picked one up. The joys of growing up apparently.

“You barely played in high school” Derek pointed out, stretching his legs up on an old trunk as he watched Stiles. Stiles who was intently staring at his stick with such precision focus, chewing on a piece of the string. It was oddly mesmerising and Derek shouldn’t find it so attractive, but attraction doesn’t just disappear after a separation.

“But I _did_ play” Stiles countered. “And I was friends with the co-captain.”

“That the kind of logic you use at the paper?” Derek deadpanned.

“That the kind of running abilities you used as a cop?” Stiles mimicked. “Exactly how many criminals did you let get away on foot? Here, use this stick” Stiles finished as he tossed the crosse he’d finished stringing together.

“If we make it out of here, I swear I will kill you myself.”

“Better hide the evidence well, and good luck dealing with my father and Lydia. Scott and Allison, hell maybe even Jackson.”

-

“Twenty-three minutes. I’m impressed; I thought it would take you two longer than that” Adahy announced when he stood up from one of the wooden logs that served as a bench around the fire pit.

“You have ye little faith in us city men” Stiles joked. “Teams?”

Adahy was captain of one team, while Scar was captain of the other. Unfortunately for Stiles and Derek they were on Scar’s team. Or they could look at it on the bright side, they knew Scar was hostile and he certainly seemed like the type of guy that wanted to win, so maybe being on his team was actually a good thing. The two men couldn’t tell if the teams were even or not in terms of everyone’s ability considering they’d never played with these guys before – they just had to hope for the best. Stiles’ and Derek’s team tied fabric around their waist for the benefit of the two new men so they knew who was on whose team.  

-

Straight from the get-go Stiles could tell these guys played rough. Adahy and Scar were the two who partook in the faceoff, the ball in between their crosses. Adahy won the faceoff, shoving Scar to the side as he scooped up the ball in his lacrosse stick off and running straight past a still standing Stiles and Derek. Adahy’s team followed after their captain as Scar’s team – Stiles and Derek included, started the chase after Adahy trying to get possession of the ball.

These tribesmen had more experience than Stiles playing on this sort of uneven ground. They knew when to hop and jump over protruding branches, running around trees and shrubs. Derek was even doing better than Stiles, far ahead of Stiles chasing after his opponents. When the hell did Derek learn to run in a forest? Stiles was still behind when he heard whoops and cheers and could only assume that Adahy’s team had scored. 

“Fuck” Stiles wheezed as he took a little break, bent over trying to catch his breath as he saw someone on his team running past him in the opposite direction. “Oh great” he sighed, turning tail and darted in the same direction he’d just come from.

One of his teammates had made head way away from the Chief’s team before his teammate lost the ball as it was dislodged from his stick and into one of the Chief’s teams sticks. “ _Oh no you don’t_ ” Stiles thought as he saw the man who stole the ball running in his direction and in the direction of the goal. Stiles started a mad dash straight towards the man running straight in his direction as he tried to anticipate which way this man would try and dart around.

Stiles veered off a little to the left as he eyed the man moving towards his left so he was farther away from Stiles before Stiles scurried to the right colliding right into the man ramming his stick against his opponents stick. He watched as if it was almost in slow-motion as the ball fell to the ground and bounced slightly as it rolled away. Stiles scooped up the ball silently praising himself – because he didn’t have the actual time to cheer and ran off in the direction of his team’s goal.

He made it a few feet before he felt himself fall to the ground face buried in a pile of dirt and soggy leaves.

-

Derek watched on from a distance as Stiles seemed to dart in one area from one spot to another, not actually running in any particular direction. That’s when Derek noticed that Stiles was trying to get the ball from the opposing team. He watched on in partial awe as Stiles actually managed to get the ball.

Realistically, Derek should be happy that a member of his team got the ball and was running towards their goal – he knew that. His brain however, got the better of him as some sort of jealousy took over. Yes, Stiles was on his team, but no – he shouldn’t have been the one to get the ball, Derek should have.

Derek didn’t even realise he was doing it before his feet started moving for him, in Stiles’ direction. He caught up to Stiles in a matter of seconds’ body checking Stiles from the back. Stiles fell to the ground with a loud grunt – the ball flying out of his netting. He ran past where Stiles was sprawled out on the ground and scooped up the ball.

“HEY ASSOLE WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM” Stiles screamed out – though Derek barely heard it as he hurtled towards the goal.

He heard grunts and moans from people behind him and could only assume that his fellow teammates had caught up and were fending off their opponents. He felt someone coming up behind him, barely any time to look behind him and see his opponent. He side checked the guy, and whipped the ball in between the two trees that served as the goal.  

His teammates cheered, patting him on the back before picking up the ball and restarting the game. Derek couldn’t help but feel smug as he basked in the praises from his teammates. He noticed Stiles standing off away from the rest of the team, giving Derek the death glare as he ran off in the opposite direction, keeping up with the game.

-

A gruelling hour and a half later Stiles heard what sounded like a horn being blown. Everyone around him stopped their running all looking utterly worn out. The game was over. There were more cheers as everyone started their short journey back towards the main grounds.

“Well, I’m sorry to say you lost” Adahy grinned as his fellow teammates cheered obnoxiously loud.

“By one point!” Stiles pointed out.

“A loss is a loss.”

“Maybe if you could have kept up” Scar sneered.

“Maybe if my own God damn team member didn’t body check me” Stiles screeched turning on Derek who only shrugged in response.

“Now now, no use in being a sore loser. It’s not good for the children to see. Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked.

They trailed after Adahy who went back into the tipi they were previously led into when they first got here. Adahy started packing up Stiles’ belongings that had been strewn all over the room from Scar as he shoved them in.

“Is it really necessary to pack our stuff up if you’re just going to kill us?” Stiles questioned when he inched closer to the opening of the tipi. Not that he had a chance in hell of making a dash for it – he had experience from last time.

“Aiyana can you get the packs for me please?” Adahy yelled.

Aiyana showed up a few minutes with one of the children as she carried some packs into the tipi and laying them down on one of the trunks at the end of the beds.

“Is this really necessary?” she asked crossing her arms.

“Oh God” Stiles groaned. “Do we get a last wish, like a last meal? I’d at least like to call my dad.”

“A bet is a bet my love” Adahy answered his wife, ignoring Stiles. He placed a kiss to his wife and shooed her out of the tipi.

“Follow me” Adahy ordered he tossed the packs Aiyana brought in one to Derek and one to Stiles. “Don’t open those.”

-

“I’m having deja vu” Stiles groaned. They’ve been walking for who knows how long – at least an hour, if not more. Adahy was in the front, Scar and another man behind with Stiles and Derek in the middle. They had the packs they were given on their backs as they trudged along.

A little while later or maybe it was a lot later they arrived, or so Adahy told them. They looked around to see nothing but the never ending supply of trees, dirt and leaves. There was no cliff for them to be thrown over; there were no rapid waterways anywhere in sight to throw them into until they surfaced in some lake. Instead there was a little stream running along the ground, other than that no signs of life.

“Where exactly is here?” Stiles asked.

“Where we get executed” Derek said.

“Now? _Now_ is not the time for your poor attempts at a joke Derek. For fuck sakes, none of this would have happened if you didn’t body check me to the ground you douche fuck.”

“Me?” Derek ridiculed. “None of _this_ would have happened if you didn’t want to go on some sort of adventure like you’re some irresponsible teenager. News flash Stiles, you’re a grown man. You’re not supposed to be breaking into impound yards and wandering into forests.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to do my job unlike you who quits-”

“ **Enough** ” the Chief barked as he startled both Derek and Stiles back to the reality at hand. “You, sit there. Derek, you sit there” he pointed to two trees beside each other.

Adahy waited for Stiles and Derek to be seated with their backs against their respective trees. Scar and the other man produced some more string, the kind that had been used to tie Stiles and Derek’s hands when they were first captured. They brought the two men’s hands around the back of the tree as far as it could go deftly tying a knot so they were secured to the tree.

“Is this really necessary?” Derek asked. “It’s not as if we can take you on.”

“Oh I know that” Adahy laughed. “There will be no taking on of anyone.”

The Chief walked until he was standing directly in front of the two men tied to the tree, looking them both in the eye before he spoke next. “Those are knotted loosely; a little work on your part and you’ll be free. It’s only so you don’t follow us. From then on, you’re on your own. You survive the night and make it back to us tomorrow, well then – you may just be worthy yet.”

“Wait wha-?”Stiles started.

“I don’t suggest trying to find your way back at night, it’s not safe in the slightest” Adahy laughed as his laughter was joined by Scar and the other man. “I wish you two luck.”

And with that Adahy, Scar and the other man went off in the direction they came, out of sight.

“You have got to be shitting me” Stiles groaned, he thumped his head on the stump of the tree a few times.

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School and the thought of exams has been kicking my ass lately, I shall try and focus on both! ha.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They have a little fun this chapter ;).

“On the bright side, we’re not dead. On the not so bright side, we’re still stuck” Stiles babbled on.

“Shut up Stiles, I’m begging you” Derek pleaded. They’ve been tied to their respective trees for the past half an hour or so, without much success of getting free. Stiles, in typical Stiles fashion had talked non-stop, his defence from nervousness, actually his defence for anything. Stiles always figured if he kept talking, he’d confuse people and they’d forget why they were mad at him, or why he hadn’t handed in his homework in school. It usually worked too, just not on his dad, or Derek apparently.

The sun had long since set, darkness upon them, and the stars trying to shine through the trees. Where Stiles tried to get free by pulling him arms as far apart as they could where bound, like he were the Hulk about to break free, Derek’s rubbed his hands up and down the tree bark trying to weaken the rope by the friction from the bark. Derek’s tactic fared much better as he felt the rope fall to the ground his arms now free.

Derek rose to his feet; he rubbed his hands over the faint bruises along his wrist from the rope. He dusted the dirt of his jeans (though it wasn’t much use) and stretched his legs. He saw Stiles as he still struggled to get free.

“Care to help a soon to be ex-husband out?” Stiles quipped. “Hey where the hell are you going?”

-

Derek wasn’t actually going to ditch Stiles, as much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t. But he really needed a piss, and while they used to pee in front of each other when they were both in their little en suite bathroom when they were married getting ready for work, now? Now just seemed a little creepy to unzip and piss in front of your ex. He walked a few feet away, behind a group of bushes all the while Stiles yelled after him.

After Derek peed he walked a little farther off trying to catch his bearings. It was too dark, and everything looked the same he couldn’t be sure which direction Adahy and the other men had gone. It was still nice to be able to stretch his legs after having been stuck and tied to a tree – which reminded him, Stiles. He begrudgingly followed the howls coming from Stiles, calling him an _“asshole, you little bitch; I’ll take you for everything you’re worth.”_ And that, that definitely caught Derek’s attention.

“Take me for everything I’m worth?” Derek came around the group of bushes in the line of sight of Stiles, who was still secured to the tree.

“Well it got your attention didn’t it? Not that there’s much I could take from you, except maybe a _spare toothbrush_.”

Derek froze when the words from Stiles hit him and echoed in his ears. Spare toothbrush. It took him a few seconds to realise that Stiles would have seen Simon’s toothbrush in his apartment when he went to the bathroom. A few seconds later he snapped back to his indifferent stature and crossed his arms.

“You can’t afford a toothbrush and you live in that fancy place?” Derek sneered. “Maybe if you didn’t throw money away on every new gadget that comes out.”

“Excuse me for wanting the finer things in life” Stiles shot back. “I do work hard for what I want.”

“That’s pretty evident” Derek snorted to hide the hurt. Stiles didn’t want Derek, because if he did – Stiles would have worked harder, tried more. Derek walked around to the back of the tree where Stiles’ hands were still tied, tugging on the rope until it loosened and fell to the ground, freeing Stiles’ hands.

“Thanks” Stiles mumbled rubbing his hands over his wrists, they were pretty sore from the amount of tugging and pulling he did. Much like Derek, Stiles rose to stretch his legs then ran to hide behind a bush to take a piss. At least he managed not to piss his pants; he could only imagine what Derek would say to that.

“I say we start heading back” Stiles announced as he came around the tree zipping his pants up.

“Didn’t you hear what they said, it’s not safe” Derek sighed. He’d dumped what Adahy had given them in their packs, which wasn’t much in terms of survival tactics.

“Please” Stiles admonished. “They were probably just trying to scare us.”

“You want to head back, by all means go. Get yourself caught in yet another trap. It’s dark out Stiles, we have one measly, no fancy GPS – what do you expect to do?”

“Aren’t you some survivalist?” Stiles accused. “Shouldn’t you be able to use the stars and lead the way, sniff us home or something cave man?”

“I swear if you don’t shut up I will kill you, and feed you to whatever animals are out here” Derek grunted.

-

Stiles held up his hands in surrender. His ex was after all an ex-cop, and way stronger than Stiles. Derek could kill Stiles _and_ hide the body in this never ending forest and no one would be none the wiser. He probably should have told someone where he was going – too late now. Besides, one night? They could totally do it; they were going to do that back at their campsite initially – although at least there they had a tent.

He walked to where Derek had dumped out the contents of their packs to take a look at what good old Adahy had left them. If it weren’t for the stars shining through the trees they’d pretty much be in the dark – but through the dim lighting of the stars Stiles saw a bottle of water each, a sleeping bag, a blanket, their beef jerky they bought at the camping store, a flashlight and some rocks.

“What the actual fuck? Rocks? To kill each other or what?” Stiles asked puzzled.

“They just wanted to weigh down the bags I guess” Derek shrugged.

“Pure evilness I tell you” Stiles snorted.

-

Despite it being July and the dead of summer, there was a cool breeze that only strengthened with the amount of trees around. It wasn’t as hot as it would be if they were in the city, instead it was a lot cooler. Normally it would have been nice, if they had proper clothing and proper sleeping arrangements.

Stiles dumped what little tree branches he could find to try and build a fire before Derek shoved him aside muttering something about burning down the whole forest. Derek found a decent sized rock that he jammed into the earth repeatedly digging a hole. Every time Stiles tried to ask what Derek was doing, Derek bore a deadly glare in Stiles’ direction until he shut up. Once Derek was satisfied with the hole he’d dug about 6 inches in diameter he dumped the branches Stiles had found into the pit of the hole and attempted to start a fire.

“You know you can start a fire with a condom?”  Stiles asked.

“Do you have a condom on you?” Derek snapped.

“Well I figured you’d have some” Stiles scoffed.

“Only you would know how to start a fire with a fucking condom. No other use for all those condoms?”

“I’ll have you know –” Stiles started but quickly shut his mouth. He didn’t need to stoop to Derek’s level and make it known that he does in fact have reason to use condoms.

“Right” Derek snorted.   

Stiles sat quietly sulking to himself as he watched in quite awe as Derek took the battery out of their lone flashlight and grabbed something Stiles had missed out of the pile of their collective belongings they’d dumped out. Derek worked efficiently rubbing the material he’d grabbed over the terminals of the battery. It started to spark and he dropped into their little hole as it caught fire on the twigs and branches, a fire starting.

“Impressive” Stiles mused, because okay it was.

-

They sat close to the fire pit on either side facing each other. They didn’t have anything else to eat besides the beef jerky which they divvied up. Derek dug into his and finished it off quickly while Stiles made faces as he took small bites and chasing it down with water. He hated that stuff. After he got through about half of his first piece of jerky, he gave up and handed them over to Derek.

Derek asked if he was sure and when Stiles said there was no way he would ever going to be able to digest it, Derek nodded his thanks and polished Stiles’ share of jerky off in seconds. Hopefully it would be enough to get them through the night and however long they were going to be stuck here.

If they didn’t manage to find their way back to Adahy and the tribe, Derek had no idea if they’d come looking for Stiles and him, or just not care. He didn’t voice his concern to Stiles, either because Stiles would worry or brush it off, he wasn’t sure.

“It’s pretty neat seeing the stars this bright. You’d never see this in the city, not even in Beacon Hills” Stiles noted as he leaned back on his palms looking up at the sky.

“Because of all the city lights.”

“I _know_ that” Stiles said. “I’m just saying, it’s nice.”

“It is” Derek relented.

“How come you never took me camping?” Stiles teased.

“Like you would have gone” Derek huffed. “Besides, you were always too busy working.”

“So were you!”

“I only picked up double shifts because _you_ were always working. What was I supposed to do sit around at home?”

“Well I only worked so much because _you_ were picking up double shifts” Stiles countered.

With that logic neither of them were going to get their point across, it would only end up them going back and forth bickering.

“My Dad totally takes your side by the way” Stiles pouted.

“I know.”

“You still talk to my dad?!” Stiles screeched.

“He calls me from time to time” Derek shrugged. “He misses you.”

-

Derek will admit there’s not a lot to do. He’s not much of a TV watcher when he’s at home, he doesn’t even own a laptop, only using a computer when he’s at work. He prefers to read, or do something, _anything_ with his hands, work on little projects, take something apart just to rebuild it. Being stuck in a forest, with no books, anything to take apart aside from their lonesome flashlight which won’t provide much entertainment is just plain boring. Derek will gladly accept one of those tiny black and white TV’s with an antenna that sticks up in the air with three channels.

The difference between Derek and Stiles though, is Derek can sit _still_ – or rather lay still. He’s sprawled out on top of the one sleeping bag that had been packed for them staring up at the sky, nodding off every few minutes. Stiles on the other hand, is still sitting by the fire muttering to himself everything he’s witnessed so far – as if that’s some sort of memorisation tactic since he doesn’t have any pen and paper to write, or a tape recorder. He’s not just muttering to himself, he’s also trying to build a house out of twigs – snapping some every few minutes, complaining even more when it topples over. He starts it all over again.

Since Adahy had been just so darn kinds to pack some food, a flash light hell even some steel wool he wonders if he slipped in a herb that can knock Stiles the fuck out, at least for a few hours. That was just plain wishful thinking though, and Derek knew it.

-

The fire soon dwindled out and Stiles huffed, got up and kicked Derek right in the ribs where he’d been sleeping. Stiles watched as Derek startled, about to laugh only to notice he was flat on his ass. Derek hadn’t realised it was Stiles and grabbed at his ankle, tugging until Stiles fell on the ground – and that was going to leave a bruise.

“Jesus dude, it’s just me!” Stiles wailed as he kicked Derek yet again this time in the thigh – because hey it worked out so well in the first place.

“What the fuck was that for?” Derek growled as he shoved Stiles’ foot away from him.

“I’m tired.”

Derek pursed his lips together, let out a breath of air as if he were seriously contemplating killing Stiles right there – laws be damned.

“And it’s cold” Stiles added. “One sleeping bag…” he trailed off.

“Should have kept the fire going” Derek shrugged. He kicked his boots off, unzipped the sleeping bag and got in, ignoring Stiles.

“And who said _you_ get the sleeping bag?” Stiles whined. “I’ll flip you for it.”

Derek flipped his middle finger up at Stiles and started to zip the sleeping bag up around him. It’s not like they even had any coins to flip – idiot.

“ **No**. No, no, no!” Stiles hissed he stilled Derek’s hand that was trying to zip up the sleeping bag. “You’ve been a major fuck face this whole weekend. First you, _charge_ me just so you don’t haul my ass into jail right away. Second, you _tackle_ me to the ground, even though we’re on the same fucking team. Third, well third you’re just a big major, I don’t know, asshole? Words fail me and I’m too tired for this bullshit. But No, you don’t get the sleeping bag. Out.”

Derek stared at Stiles for a few seconds before he finally spoke.

“If that’s your plan on how to get the sleeping bag I suggest you re-strategize. Insults don’t help.”

He still unzipped the sleeping bag completely until it looked like a large blanket and manoeuvred it so he was still partially lying on the fabric but there was now more that could accommodate another person. They’d have to lie partially on the ground, but it was better than trying to squish in one sleeping bag – no thank you.

Stiles eyed Derek warily like this were a bad idea but he didn’t really have any other options so he scooted in under the makeshift blanket yet still tried to stay as far away from Derek as he could.

-

“Okay, I’m wide awake now” Stiles murmured minutes later. His body was functioning way faster than his brain and right now it was hyperaware that he was lying next to his ex-husband. Sure, they had slept in close quarters last night – but it was a bit more terrifying being stuck in mesh netting. Although sleeping on the ground should be terrifying in its own – who knew what sort of animals were lurking out there right now, poised to attack when they dozed off.

“I was asleep just perfectly before some dumbass kicked me in the ribs” Derek muttered.

Stiles sighed as he flipped over on his stomach shoving his arm under their makeshift pillow which was just their backpacks as he tried to get comfortable. Soon after he realised that wasn’t comfortable enough and starts shifting _again_ until he elbowed Derek square in the jaw.

“ **Stiles** ” Derek barked, he bolted straight up, rubbed at his jaw and shoved Stiles’ on his back his palms on Stiles’ chest. “ **Quit, moving** ” he enunciated.

“I’m – I… sorry?” Stiles said – and he didn’t know why he was flustered all of a sudden.

“Why’s your heart beating so fast?” Derek asked he tilted his head to the side. Even through the fabric of Stiles’ shirt he could feel the constant staccato of Stiles’ heartbeat. It’s not like he even threatened Stiles or shoved him that hard – he shouldn’t be scared.

“It’s not” Stiles tried even though he knew it was no use, he felt like his heart was going to jump out whether through his chest or his throat he didn’t know.

Derek narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, nodded his head and started to remove his hand. Stiles surged forward – unaware of what he was even doing himself – and practically face planted into Derek. It wasn’t quite precise as Stiles’ lips made contact with the side of Derek’s mouth but it didn’t matter he placed a kiss, moving his mouth the last few centimetres until their mouths were sealed and Stiles just _kept_ kissing.

-

Derek didn’t open up straight away – startled at the turn of events, thrown off balance. He felt Stiles’ lips on the corner of his mouth then moving towards his until their lips slotted together – like all the hundreds, _thousands_ of times they’d done it before. He felt Stiles grip at his shirt as he pulled Derek closer and Derek found himself opening his mouth only fractionally – but that’s all Stiles’ needed and took the opportunity to dart his tongue out, ran it along Derek’s lips and into his mouth.

Derek doesn’t know whether it was him or Stiles that let out a desperate whining noise – it didn’t matter because Stiles pushed until Derek was flat on his ass and Stiles moved right along with Derek never breaking apart until he straddled Derek.

Derek needed to stop this, his brain kept flashing _stop, stop, stop_ over and over again. He was even ready to push Stiles’ away, break their mouths apart until Stiles ran his hand down Derek’s chest. It’s not like he was even touching skin, but his hand – so familiar yet so foreign that Derek blanked. He just wanted to _remember_ , even if it were just one last time. He never got a last time – not really, he didn’t know it then, that that was their last time. This time, this time he had a chance to know, this was it.

So he let Stiles run his hand down his chest, slip it under the hem of Derek’s shirt and run it up and down Derek’s abs. This time, Derek knew for certain it was him who let out a whine and it seemed to work because Stiles took that as a keep going. He ran his fingers along the top of Derek’s jeans and Derek took that as his opportunity to sit up a little straighter, pull away – only to fumble to get Stiles’ shirt off, then his own. He leaned back on his palms as Stiles’ went to work on unbuttoning Derek’s belt and zipper on his jeans.

Stiles undid the zipper on his own jeans but made no effort to take them off. He instead worked awkwardly at trying to get Derek’s jeans down a little, Derek putting his weight on his palms, he lifted his hips and Stiles pulled the jeans and his boxers down.

Derek shivered as the cold air hit him but the coolness soon replaced by Stiles’ hand – as it gripped Derek’s cock and started to stroke it to hardness – and _that_ just made Derek shiver all over again, but for a completely different reason.

Stiles worked on Derek’s cock, a firm grip from the base to the head – he watched mesmerised as the head of Derek’s cock disappeared under his foreskin as he pulled forward and returning as he stroked back down to the base. It’s been a long time since he’s done this, _seen_ this.

He scooted backwards as he pushed Derek’s legs apart and settled himself in. His grip firm on the base of Derek’s dick, he licked his lips and let it trace over his lips, he felt Derek try and buck his hips at the contact. Stiles relented, opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the crown before he sucked just the tip. Now it was Stiles’ turn to moan with the head of Derek’s cock in his mouth because doesn’t that just bring up old, fantastic memories. He focuses on taking more into his mouth, as much as he can while his other hand traced over Derek’s balls. He runs his tongue along the familiar veins that run the length of Derek’s cock – Stiles swears he can remember each and every one of them.

-

Derek’s give up on trying to steady himself on the palm of his hands, instead leaned back bracing himself on his forearms as he subtly tries to thrust his cock further into Stiles’ mouth. He tries to chase away the images of Simon and the way he goes down on Derek because that’s _nothing_ compared to Stiles and the way his mouth and tongue work. From day on Stiles had been eager and loved Derek’s cock – it was after all the first one he’d seen in a sexual capacity other than his own, he’d said as much. Stiles always went on that no other cock would be as amazing not that he’d ever know because they’d be together.

Derek then had to chase away _that_ thought because they weren’t together. But they were here and now, and right now Stiles was licking at his balls taking them into his mouth and sucking and that was enough to make Derek forget about anything else.

Derek gripped at Stiles’ neck trying to get his attention and when Stiles lifted his head he had a string of spit dripping from his lips and Derek couldn’t help but moan at the sight. He pulled at Stiles to get closer as Stiles gracelessly shifted his jeans and boxers down. Stiles inched closer, lining up his cock with Derek’s and let a drop of spit slip down onto where their cocks were together and wrapped his hands around them both.

Derek batted his hand away and wrapped his large rough hands around them both and Stiles can’t help the groan that escaped – because that feels even better than his own hand. It’s been his own hand for too damn long. He meant to let Derek jerk them off, but he can’t help his hips as they give little aborted thrusts and he finds himself thrusting his cock with Derek’s hand around his them, his cock sliding over Derek’s and it’s _too_ much, he knows soon enough it’ll be over.

Derek placed a hand on Stiles’ hips stilling his thrusts – as much as it feels good, and as much as Stiles looks perfect; his eyes closed, a small smile on his face as he keeps licking his lips, Derek wants to feel them. He keeps his grip on Stiles’ hips and starts to stroke them. He grips harder, twists his wrists and runs his thumb over the tip of his cock and he knows he’s done for.

His stomach clenches, tingling running up his spine as his legs start to shake and he bites down a groan as he starts to come, feeling it spill onto his hand running down his and Stiles’ cocks. That seems to be enough for Stiles because after a few more strokes from Derek his hips give one final thrust and he’s coming, over their cocks and onto Derek’s shirt.

Stiles seemed to be a little dazed like he doesn’t realise what just happened, sort of just slumped on Derek, unable to move – typical Stiles. Derek grabs the sleeping bag, using a corner to wipe away the drying cum that’s covering their cocks and he unsuccessfully tries to get the come stuck to his shirt off but only manages to rub it more in. At least, it’s not like Derek wore designer clothes.

Eventually Stiles comes back to the land of the living, out of his daze tumbling off of Derek as they both pull their boxers back fully on and laying down. It certainly doesn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep suddenly exhausted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual I cringe at my own writing, especially when I try and write some sexy times but hey, I hope someone enjoys.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hopefully this all makes sense and you guys aren't thinking wtf?  
> As for details about the park I embellished a little to fit my story and as for the Tribes and all that, well I made that shit up.  
> So don't hate me ha.

If Stiles thought waking up to the honking of cars passing by, the shouts of people and the clattering of beer bottles being tipped into the recycling trucks was deafening at 6 in the morning, it was nothing like waking up in the middle of a forest. He woke to the sound of birds chirping and jibber jabbing echoing throughout the entire forest. It brought back memories of when he woke up in bed with Adriano, head hammering from a hangover, which reminded him.

He felt the warmth of an arm wrapped around his torso, the steady heaving breath of Derek on his neck, and oh yeah, the snores. That was just as deafening as ever. He popped open his eyes to see a squirrel sitting a few feet away, munching on something just staring at Stiles. He jumped with a startle, jostled Derek’s arm off his stomach as the squirrel scurried off. As far as waking up to an animal staring them in the face, Stiles had to admit he preferred the squirrel over a bear, or a coyote.

Derek grunted beside him, running his hands through his hair dusting off the dirt and twigs that were undoubtedly stuck in there. His bare chest was visible, clearly evident that Stiles had managed to hog all the covers the night before and for the second time this weekend he saw Derek only in his boxers, cock outlined, half hard.

“Uh, morning. So last time, that shouldn’t have happened, right?” Stiles asked leaving the question hanging like he wasn’t sure himself.

Derek blinked a few times, pulled the sleeping bag over his thighs and sat up.

“Yeah you’re right” he answered, his voice hoarse from just having woken up. He grabbed at his jeans tossed a little ways away on the ground and slunk into them. He took one look at his shirt which still covered in come and tossed it to the side putting his jacket on and zipping it up to cover his chest. “We should get going.”

“Oh, yeah okay, hang on a minute” Stiles said feeling around for his own jeans and shirt. Considering Derek got laid last night, he was in an awfully bad mood, Stiles thought. Maybe he was just hungry; he knew how Derek got when he was running low on food.

-

Derek didn’t think that last night was the grand reunion between the two of them, he isn’t dense. He did however think maybe it was a starting point, only for Stiles to tell him it shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t even like Derek was the one that made the first move, no Stiles jumped Derek. Clearly Stiles really hadn’t been getting laid and was only horny.

He waited as Stiles got dressed, rolling up the sleeping bag and shoving it in his backpack and crammed his shirt at the bottom of the bag.

“I think we should go this way” Stiles spoke, pointing in one direction.

“What makes you think that?” Derek asked a bit more rudely than was needed.

“Okay, well then which way do you think we should go oh human compass?”

Derek huffed, stomped off in the opposite direction to where Stiles had pointed, leaving Stiles behind.

“For someone that just got lucky last night, you’re in a shit-tastic mood dude” Stiles hollered after Derek.

Derek ground his teeth, balled his hands into fists and just kept walking. He was not going to hit Stiles he kept chanting to himself.

-

Neither of them knew how many hours later when they heard shouts and screams of little children running around and the chatter of adults. They’d finally gotten back to Adahy and the rest of the tribe. Alive and well. They cut across the clearing, came into view of the as everyone stopped what they were doing to stare.

“Well well, look who made it back. Afraid to say you missed breakfast though” Scar mocked, from where he stood in the middle of a group, in the middle of telling a story.

“I don’t recall you giving us a time limit” Stiles sighed dropping his backpack on the ground. That shit was heavy and his back was officially killing him. “Nor did we kill each other if that’s what you were hoping for.”

“Almost did” Derek muttered under his breath.

“Ignore him” Adahy waved in Scar’s direction, “let’s get you some food. I’m a man of my word and apparently you two are worthy yet.”

“Gee thanks” Stiles scoffed.

“I think they could use a shower first, dear” Aiyana interrupted, scrunching her nose up as she took in Stiles and Derek - covered in dirt.

She motioned for the two men to follow her into another tipi grabbing some cloths that were towel sized and led the boys a little ways into the forest leading to a stream. She handed them little cloths to wash off with, with little bars of soap that looked to be home-made.

Stiles grabbed his shower stuff and walked down a few feet the stream covered a little by over grown trees and started to strip. Now normally he would complain about showering in a stream, considering there’s probably bugs and not to mention dirt in there, so how the hell is that supposed to get someone clean? But he has two days grime seeping into his skin so he’s not about to complain.

Derek grabs his stuff, unzips his jacket only to see Aiyana’s smirk at Derek’s bare chest before she spins around and marches back in the direction of her tribe.

“I feel like the birds are staring at me, and there’s animals lurking in the forest watching me bathe naked” Stiles yelled out to Derek.

“Watch out for the garden snakes” Derek yelled back.

“WHAT?” Stiles screeched.

“They’re usually on the banks of streams, near bushes.”

Derek heard the splash of water only to see Stiles running towards his direction naked his washcloth barely covering his dick. He drops the soap in the water and had to stop to fish around until he finds it, trying to pick it up only for it to slip back out of his hands. He can hear Stiles swear under his breath, giving up on the soap and runs to stand near where Derek’s finished his bath.

“Do you see any?” Stiles asked, eyes searching the water.

Derek bites back the laugh threatening to escape as he puts back on his boxers and jeans. Not much of a point of showering only to put on dirty clothes again.

“You slept in the middle of a forest and you weren’t concerned about snakes, and now you are?” Derek asked arms crossed a smirk on his face.

“Oh my God, you little shit! You were joking?” Stiles screeched.

“I’m sure there are snakes in the forest. As to where they are, I have no idea.”

“You little fuck” Stiles muttered under his breath, he stomped back to where he was having his bath to retrieve his clothes.

Derek really couldn’t hold back the laugh now, as he watched Stiles scrawny pale naked ass wading through the shallow water.

-

Derek made it back to the tribe before Stiles and could smell something delicious being cooked over the fire. He didn’t forget how hungry he was, but smelling it made his stomach rumble even more – he was pretty sure he could eat a whole buffalo right about now. He carried his wash cloth, soap and jacket in hand because it was at least noon and the sun was high in the sky, and he was already sweating – he really didn’t need the leather rubbing over his body and chafe.

“Put a shirt on” Scar muttered as he tossed Derek a thin white t-shirt.

“Scared I’m going to steal your wife?” Derek joked, “news flash, I prefer men.”

“And here I thought the other kid was the sarcastic little shit.”

Aiyana smacked Scar upside the head, as she walked past him to hand Derek a plate – she obviously got away with it considering her husband was the leader or whatever. Scar made a face and went back to his own wife and kids. The food looked just as delicious as it smelt, an omelette covered in an array of colourful vegetables and Derek didn’t hesitate to dig in. 

“So what if we didn’t make it back?” Derek asked between bites of food.

Aiyana giggled before she answered, “I never would have let that happen. Adahy likes to think he runs the show, everyone knows it’s really the woman though,” she winked before getting up to serve Stiles’ breakfast as he emerged through the trees in his clothes.

“Food” Stiles groaned, he plopped himself down on the closest log as he shovelled food into his mouth, “all we had last night was beef jerky, beef jerky, can you believe it?! Who’s even heard of such a thing?”

“Wasn’t it in your pack?” Aiyana asked arching her eyebrow as she sat next to Stiles.

“Well yes, but not for me, for Derek. I find that stuff repulsive, how it’s even classified as food is beyond me. It tastes like leather. But then again, he does have a thing for leather, so you know.”

“Speaking of Derek,” Aiyana laughed, “where’s his shirt?”

“Oh, you know him – well you don’t, but really any excuse to flex his stupidly perfect abs.”

Aiyana gave Stiles a pointed look before she spoke, “and here I thought it was Derek that needed the talking to” she sighed, “men.”

“What are you talking about? Hey, come back here” Stiles yelled after Aiyana as she got up.

What the hell was she talking about?

-

Once Derek and Stiles had finished their meals, Adahy clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention, the adult’s attention at least.

“Now, I believe that since you two managed to survive the night, I owe you an explanation.”

“What sort of explanation? That you need some serious therapy for leaving us in a forest?” Stiles deadpanned.

“I meant” Adahy said crossly, arms folded over his chest, “that I was willing to answer the questions you had for your article so long as it’s not an expose.”

Stiles nearly fell off the log he was seated on as his head snapped up to look at Adahy to see if he was just fucking around with Stiles – it’s not like it’d be the first time these past 48 hours. Adahy walked off, coming back holding Stiles’ tape recorder and handed it to Stiles. He explained the ground rules, he’d answer the questions he deemed acceptable, names and locations were not to be used and only limited photos were to be taken and Adahy had final say. He sure was acting like one diva.

Stiles didn’t care though, he’d take what he could get and right now he was getting way more than he ever thought he was after they first got captured. Hell he was alive and getting the story of his life.

Stiles dove right in asking any and every question that came to his head and he was seriously having some trouble trying to sort out his brain it’s as if he were back in high school when he couldn’t concentrate. He didn’t have all his papers with the research he’d done, and the information he wanted to get – he just had to wing it.

-

Derek on the other hand, didn’t care about the history of these tribesmen, what they did for a living or anything. They had their life, they were living their life happily and as far as he was concerned (this past weekend aside) they weren’t harming anyone. If he found out bodies were being buried, well he’d high tail it out of there.

Instead he let himself get dragged away by the children who tried to shove a lacrosse stick in his hand, wanting to play a game they’d seen the adults playing the previous day. Derek chuckled and shook his head no and at seeing the disappointed faces of the children, with their Bambi eyes, he grabbed a soccer ball and started a game with the kids.

-

Stiles learned that not all the tribesmen and woman necessarily grow up on the land. In fact Adahy and only one other family – Scar’s, were raised on the land they currently resided in. The other families were in fact some families that had decided to join the group after having either been born or even grown up in the city.

“ _How?”_ Stiles had asked did these families join the tribe if it were so secretive.

Adahy explained that it was just like any other opportunity in life, it’s who you know. The families that joined the tribe knew Adahy or someone that knew Adahy and one thing led to another and they started their life over again in the forest, living off the land.

“ _What about the rumoured crimes?”_

Adahy actually let out a bellow of a laugh as he explained what all the rumours were really about. Adahy and the tribe harvested hemp and sold it at local markets in the city – yes they actually went into the city, interacted with other humans. Not often, sometimes once a month or even once every two months. They didn’t sell the hemp as any sort of drug, they weren’t selling marijuana, they were selling hemp.

They harvested the hemp into things that could be sold at local markets that all the hippies, hipsters (Stiles words, not Adahy’s) and foodies could us for everyday use. Whether it was raw, ground, made into hemp milk, jewellery or even used as tea. Of course selling hemp related products led the media and other people to just assume that it meant they were drug dealers, getting stuck in gang shoot outs or something – when in fact they were the complete opposite, they liked and thrived for peace.

“ _You don’t need the money_ ” Stiles pointed out quizzically.

Scar took over the next part of the story explaining that they used to live on the land; well their ancestors did, years, hundreds of years ago before Adirondack Park became state protected. Many of the tribes back then had to move, resettle somewhere else or were killed. Adahy and Scar’s tribal ancestors had stood their ground, fought for what they wanted and fought viciously for their land. Somehow, in the end they won – at least partially. The park still became state protected, but the tribe got their own part of the land where they wouldn’t be disturbed by visitors.

Their land had been marked off on the map as unstable, dangerous due to environmental reasons and hikers or campers weren’t to go there and for the most part, it worked. Until of course, Scar explained, Stiles and Derek showed up.

And while yes, they didn’t need the money, back then the State didn’t have a lot of money to protect the land. There was interest in major corporations to buy the land, create golf courses, hotels, shopping malls whatever they could think of. The State was seriously considering selling off some of the land just to have enough money. The tribe vehemently refused.

So they took it upon themselves to help contribute to the fund – back then they didn’t need a lot of money to help the State and they did what they could. Ever since the tribe has kept up the tradition, even if only the little money they earned from their sales helped enforce outsiders from bothering them in their land.

Stiles learned a lot about the tribe and he realised that everything he thought he knew, he was completely and utterly wrong. The Tribe weren’t murders or even drug dealers; they were just people trying to live their lives unbothered. He learned that although they frowned upon it, if one of their children grew up and wanted to leave they could. They could go to the city, live a city life, get a real job, and get a college degree or whatever. They were even allowed to come back and visit, so long as they were secretive about their past – if they were going to tell someone, an outsider about their lives, they had to have a tribe meeting to deem if it were appropriate or not. After all, they couldn’t have an outsider finding out and then go about blabbing. Luckily, they’ve been fortunate so far.

“ _And if someone wanted to join the tribe – you’ve talked about outsiders joining, how does that work?”_

Normally, Adahy explained they’d be put through a series of tests. Like camping in the wilderness alone and finding their way back to the tribe, for example.

“You mean I passed the test, to join your pack?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Not only did you manage to find us when no one else has, yes you managed one of the tests. Even survived a game of lacrosse even though you lost. Though I think you should thank Derek for surviving the night, I’m sure” Adahy snickered.

-

At the mention of Derek, Stiles startled realising he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He looked up from his tape recorder that was practically glued to his hand so he didn’t miss a single word to find Derek running around with all the children.

Actually, the children were climbing Derek like a tree and even trying to wrestle him to the ground. It was pretty evident that the children couldn’t knock Derek over, not even punch him without hurting themselves, but Derek fell to the ground in fake agony as the children laughed and giggled thinking they’d actually succeeded.

Derek looked absolutely carefree; his face was probably the least pinched and pursed as it had been all weekend. Stiles felt a little pang in his heart, because he remembered the days when Derek looked so carefree, it felt like a lifetime ago. And all it took was children? Stiles really knew how to fuck shit up.

Derek must have felt more than a pair of eyes on him as he looked up from where he was on the ground, children on top of him to see the adults staring at him. He gave a weak little smile before he jumped up and started chasing after the children.

-

It was getting nearer to the evening, after Derek had finished playing with the children and Stiles finished his interview. They were eating dried fruit and getting served tea.

“As you can see, we are rather boring. No crime, no story” Aiyana pointed out.

“Are you kidding? This is still an amazing story. Thank you, really, thanks for letting me do this.”

“Guess you’re not so useless after all” Scar snickered.

“I take it that even though you passed the tests you won’t be joining?” Adahy asked a small smile on his face like he already knew the answer.

Derek snorted, “Stiles likes his technology too much he wouldn’t make it a week.”

“Hey!” Stiles screeched as he punched at Derek’s arm, “he’s probably the one that would say yes, can I leave him here with you?”

“Then how are you going to get back?” Derek countered and okay, he had a point, Stiles couldn’t get back on his own.

“I think we should put you two back out in the forest” Scar joked.

“NO!” both Derek and Stiles yelled at the same time. They were both sure if they had to spend another night alone in the forest one of them would end up dead, and Stiles was pretty sure it would be him.

-

“I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I’m sad to see you two go” Adahy said.

They had been given back their back packs, with all their belongings, said their goodbyes to the rest of the tribe and the children. Scar, Adahy and Aiyana had agreed to walk back with Stiles and Derek to where they had first left their canoe when they came onto the island.

This time, they weren’t bound, being poked or shoved at to keep walking. Instead they all walked together, laughing and talking as they went. After everything, it turned out to be a pretty amazing weekend.

Stiles had to admit he himself was sad to be leaving as well.

“Please do visit again, the kids will love it. We all would,” Aiyana said smiling as she held her husbands’ hand.

“You got it” Stiles beamed back as he helped Derek tug the canoe out from under the trees and bushes they’d first hidden it under and dragging it to the water.

-

As they waved their goodbyes from the waterway, Stiles didn’t even bother trying to help Derek steer the canoe and Derek didn’t complain. They sat in the canoe not talking as they navigated their way back to Alger Island where all their camping supplies were – unused. Assuming someone didn’t find it and steal everything. Or think that they’d gone missing and now there was a State Park search for them. Imagine trying to explain where the hell they were this past weekend.

Luckily, their belongings were still there out in the open. They quickly packed up all their unused goods which proved to be a giant waste of money before loading the canoe yet again, ready to head back to the main land so they could get the hell out of there.

“Man I could seriously use an hour long shower” Stiles groaned as he slipped into the passenger side of the car after they loaded all their supplies into the back of Derek’s truck.

“I don’t think they give you that long in jail” Derek snickered.

Shit. Just _shit._

Stiles had completely forgotten that this was the whole reason Derek was with him the weekend, to haul his ass into jail because of this ridiculous warrant out for his arrest.

“Don’t drop the soap.”

Stiles groaned as he thumped his head against the window.

His fucking life.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been delaying writing this because I've been stressing about school/my birthday is this weekend. But at least this chapter is up and I can relax this weekend & start back up next week!

“So is this really necessary?” Stiles asked for the umpteenth time since they started their drive back to the city. They were only an hour or so outside of the city now and Derek has yet to say anything regardless of the incessant babbling coming from Stiles. “I mean, I’m sure I can talk to the judge or something and clear it all up.”

“You can,” Derek finally relented.

“I can?” Stiles straightened up in his seat.

“Sure,” Derek said side glancing Stiles, “at your court date that will be set once you’re in jail.”

“Asshole,” Stiles muttered, he slouched back down in his seat and turned away from Derek.

That didn’t stop Derek from rolling his eyes because he figured now, after all this time Stiles would realise Derek’s not fucking around. He’s got a job to do and he’s going to do it.

Stiles didn’t bother talking to Derek the rest of the ride home, instead playing on his cell phone that was rapidly starting to die. Once the battery was dead he re-read all his notes, writing in the margins, high lighting certain parts and completely re-writing other bits.

-

“Why are we driving back to Williamsburg?” Stiles asked when he looked up and saw Derek taking the exit towards Williamsburg instead of continuing on into the city, “you’re not going to put me in some Brooklyn jail with gangsters. I’m too pretty to be stuck with them, they’ll eat my alive. I swear to God I’ll open this door and throw myself out Derek.”

“Shut up Stiles,” Derek huffed, “I have to go back to my apartment to pick up some paperwork for the police station, so they know I brought you in.”

“Oh right, all about the money with you big guy,” they were just pulling up to the familiar street Stiles now recognized as where Derek’s apartment was, “can we at least get something to eat before you haul me in to my death?”

Derek didn’t answer, pulling up on the side of the curb shutting his truck off and hopped out of the car. He heard Stiles start to scramble out of the car as well, but he wasn’t worried that Stiles was going to run – it’s not like he had many places to hide and by the looks of it he was scared enough of Brooklyn as it was. Amateur.

“Derek? Hey Derek!” someone called. “I just buzzed your apartment, but no answer.”

Derek whirled around to see Simon running towards him from his own car parked on the other side of the street.

“What are you doing here?” Derek growled, he visibly tensed looked at Stiles quickly – who stood a few feet away from Derek looking at the events unfolding.

“Haven’t heard from you all weekend, I thought I’d stop by and make sure you were okay. I see you’re… Busy,” Simon finished looking at Stiles.

“Oh, what me? Derek and I just work together is all,” Stiles said as he plastered the fakest smile he could.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Simon asked looking at Stiles sceptically.

“No, I’m more of the paper work person y’know?” Stiles laughed, “We’re just bringing in this idiot that broke into an impound yard, I mean who even does that? Idiot.”

Derek couldn’t help the snort because yes, he agreed what kind of idiot actually breaks into an impound yard? Only Stiles. He was just lucky there were no dogs in the yard; he would have been torn to shreds.

“I guess I’ll see you, later then?” Simon asked as he backed up heading towards his car.

Derek nodded his head gruffly before turning around and started to head to the doors of his apartment building. Stiles stood, watched as Simon got in the car and gave a farewell wave with a grin on his face – Stiles was nothing if not cordial.

Once Stiles couldn’t see Simon’s car anymore, having turned a corner he turned on his heels and jogged to where Derek was about to head up the stairs in the entryway of the apartment building. Stiles grabbed a hold of Derek and tugged him down the first step, spinning him around so they were face-to-face.

“ ** _Married?_** _”_  Stiles screeched, “c’mon Derek are you serious right now? I saw that ring on his finger!”

Derek sighed, rubbed his hands down his face. “It’s none of your business Stiles.”

“It may not be but his poor husband, God I can’t imagine how shitty he’d feel when he found out.”

Stiles saw the moment Derek clenched his jaw and looked away. That revealed enough for Stiles to decipher what was going on.

“A **_woman?_** ” Stiles screeched for the second time, “are you serious Derek? Just because your marriage didn’t work out doesn’t mean it gives you the right to go and destroy someone else’s.”

“Shut up Stiles” Derek muttered turning around and started to stomp up the stairs.

“Does he have kids? God I hope not. Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry I’m not on the same moral high ground that you’re on Stiles,” Derek interjected; he stopped midway up the stairs and Stiles almost bumped into him.

Stiles opened and closes his mouth a few times, about to tell Derek that no, he was not in fact on any moral high ground either. Granted a one night stand was a little different than sleeping with a married man. Then again, for all Stiles knew Adriano was married, or in a relationship – who knows, Stiles didn’t ask and Adriano didn’t say anything. He followed behind Derek in silence and waited outside Derek’s apartment as he stomped around inside shoving papers, enveloped stuffed with bills aside looking for the paperwork.

Once Derek got the paperwork he marched back downstairs and they began their journey back into the city.

“Can I-,”

“ **Stiles** ,” Derek sighed as he put his indicator on, stepping on the gas to overpass a slow taxi.

“No just let me get this out,” Stiles interrupted before Derek could tell him to shut up, “I don’t think I’m on any moral high ground nor have any sort of sensibility. If I did I wouldn’t have blatantly embarrassed myself in high school just to get your attention. Not that I regret it, not for a minute. I just don’t think it’s very, you.”

“Very me?” Derek repeated.

“Yes. You’re the fiercest loyal person I know. To get yourself in the situation you did, well I don’t think it’s very you and I think you deserve better than that, you deserve to be happy. I _know_ you.”

“Apparently not,” Derek muttered.

Stiles didn’t know whether Derek was referring to the whole talking about feelings thing, because they were never the kind of couple to spill their feelings all over each other at every waking moment – that’s not to say they were dejected they just had their boundaries. Or the whole happiness thing, because Stiles was starting to realise that Derek never wanted to end their relationship, so he’s not the happiest guy around at the minute.

Stiles didn’t know whether he preferred the latter or the former, both sucked and both still resulted in the two men skirting around their issues.

“Say what you will, Derek but you and I know each other better than anyone else. That’s probably why we drove each other crazy this weekend.”

Stiles looked out the window and didn’t say another word.

-

“Derek Hale,” Derek said flashing his Bounty Hunter badge at the police officer manning the desk at the New York Police Department. Thankfully it was an officer Derek didn’t know, he really didn’t want to see any of his old co-workers, so they could make jokes about being a fake cop or bowing out early. “This is Stiles Stilinski,” he continued and slid the papers he fetched from his apartment earlier across the counter.

The officer nodded his head, looked over the papers, signed another piece, stamped it and handed it back to Derek.

“I’ll take him off your hands now Mr Hale,” the officer said, he walked around the counter and grabbed Stiles by the upper arm leading him through the station.

Stiles turned his head back to look at Derek, giving a wry little smile before turning back around and continued on with the officer. No dramatic goodbyes, no farewell kiss (okay maybe that was wishful thinking, completely on Stiles part), not even a “ _see ya later.”_

Not that Stiles could blame Derek, not really. He was probably ecstatic to finally get Stiles off his hands; he was quite a handful considering everything they’d been through this past weekend. The running away in Battery Park, the drive up to Adirondack Park, buying and trying to canoe with all those camping supplies, getting stuck in a net high in the air, fearing for their life when the Blood Moon Pack got a hold of them, that crazy lacrosse game where Derek body slammed Stiles to the ground, having to spend yet _another_ night in the forest without their proper camping supplies. Only to realise that hey, the Blood Moon Pack isn’t all that bad, actually they’re not bad at all.

So yeah, Derek probably deserved a nice crisp beer, while Stiles was stuck sitting in an empty jail call. At least it was empty and he didn’t have a cellmate because he really didn’t have the energy to even be scared of what some guy would do to him or what gang he might accidently join. He didn’t think a jailhouse tattoo would suit him very well.  

They didn’t even let Stiles keep his satchel, instead stuffing it into a plastic bag. One of the officers did look over Stiles’ notes and deemed that there wasn’t any explicit or condemning information on it, so he let Stiles keep that in the cell with him – when he asked for a pen though the officer laughed in his face. Stiles put on his best scowl face that could hardly match Derek’s until the officer relented and came back with a highlighter.

Stiles was about to retort some smart ass comment but quickly shut his mouth. He was in jail after all and didn’t really have any room to let his smart mouth get him into any more trouble. So he took the highlighter and started writing out his article on some blank pieces of paper, his eyes became tired after a while staring at the blankness of the whitepaper and the brightness of the yellow highlighter as he wrote.

-

“Mr Stiles Stilinski, breaking and entering of a private business, breaking and entering of a car _on_ private property, attempted theft – and it wasn’t even your car,” the judge, Judge Abernathy read off the sheet, as he peered at Stiles – sitting at the defendants table with his lawyer – over his glasses.

“Your honour,” Stiles’ lawyer Mr Walsh tried, as he stood up, “my client has no priers, comes from a family whose father is the Sheriff, husband a cop. He understands the law, and realises what he did was an error in judgement.”

Stiles tried not to cringe when the lawyer mentioned Derek his “husband cop” because a) he wasn’t a cop anymore and b) he and Derek weren’t even together anymore. The lawyer assured Stiles that the judge couldn’t possibly know that he and Derek were separated, they hadn’t officially filed any papers yet and it could only help.

“Mr Stilinski, your lawyer points out you come from a family who’s heavily involved in the law yet you so easily defy it – have you no respect?”

“With all due respect your honour-,” Mr Walsh started before Judge Abernathy interrupted.

“Mr Stilinski, I respect that you have no priers and a steady job. I’m not in the business of making examples of people, I rule for each case separately regarding the charges and the defendants’ background.  However, considering you did skip your bail I’m not about to so easily let you off of the hook. You’ll not do any jail time; you will be on probation for 6 months and 50 hours of community service to be finished within those 6 months. Do we have an understanding?”

Before Stiles could answer, Mr Walsh said, “yes your honour,” and with that the judge banged his gavel, stood and left for his chambers.

“Talk about getting off easy Mr Stilinski,” Mr Walsh said shaking Stiles’ hands as they exited the court room.

-

Stiles’ article is a hit. It’s gotten rave reviews from everyone in the office; Mr Gilmore is elated that he’s the only paper in the city to get the scoop on this well sought after story. Even Jackson patted Stiles’ on the back saying “ _not so bad Stilinski”_ and coming from Jackson, well Stiles would take it.

The story hadn’t gone _exactly_ to plan Stiles had intended to write a story about an elusive group that caused chaos and crime and instead wrote a sombre piece about a group of people trying to live their life, all with the stigmatism attached to them of a life full of crime. Stiles was lucky that Adahy let him take some pictures; even if no faces or distinct geographical areas were shown otherwise the article would have been labelled a fluke.

Needless to say Mr Gilmore was apparently a man of his word. Stiles sat in Serendipity’s at 225 East 60th Street New York, waiting for his Golden Opulence Sundae to come out.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Lydia sighed as she plunked herself down across the table from Stiles, acting as if she were being put out. Although Stiles knew that Lydia could pack away more food than most men their age, so she was the perfect person to celebrate with. Besides, Lydia had a sweet tooth and even if she didn’t admit it, she missed Jackson and what better way than to gorge out on a $1000 sundae?

“Don’t act like you’re not excited Lydia Martin,” Stiles narrowed his eyes as he accused Lydia.

He was right because he saw a group of waiter’s coming out carrying the largest most immaculate sundae Stiles has even seen in his entire life. There are multiple scoops of ice cream, drizzled in what’s apparently one of the most expensive chocolates in the world, candied fruits, gold covered almonds, chocolate truffles and not to mention topped off with 23-carat gold leaf flakes sprinkled all over.

It was truly a work of art and both Stiles and Lydia were in awe, as everyone else in the store scooted in close just to get a picture. Neither Stiles nor Lydia could resist as they fetched their phones out and started snapping pictures of the sundae itself, each grabbing a spoon and digging in, and even had one of the waiters take a picture of the two of them hidden behind the giant sundae.

“There’s no way we’re going to finish this,” Stiles groaned as he rubbed at his head, he was already getting brain freeze.

“You have little faith,” Lydia admonished as she dug into the sundae not letting up in the slightest.

“At least we have no men in our lives to worry about if we get fat,” Stiles joked.

“Mm,” Lydia agreed.

They say in silence a little longer starting to make a dent in the sundae when Stiles phone started ringing, he looked at the number and scrunched his face up because it said it was an international call.

“Is that Adriano?” Lydia asked as she peered over at Stiles’ phone on the table. “If so, don’t answer.”  

“No boys interrupting our little date?” Stiles asked.

“No, no Adriano interrupting our date. If Derek wants to interrupt then that’s fine with me.”

“What! You’re the one that pushed me to Adriano,” Stiles pointed out.

“And I realise I made a mistake. You’ve been pouty ever since you got out of the slammer, either that weekend with Derek did a number on you, or you met your soul mate in jail.”

“Ha. Well it doesn’t matter either way,” Stiles pouted only further proving Lydia’s point.

“But it does Stiles. Not that I don’t love you, but you’re celebrating a huge success in your life and who do you call, me? When you really wanted to call?”

“Like you wouldn’t have done the same if you were celebrating,” Stiles countered. “You’d want to celebrate with Jackson.”

“I’d want to celebrate with the _both_ of you. Just like you want to be celebrating with Derek and me.”

“Okay oh Holy Oprah, I got it.”

“Do you?” Lydia asked raising her perfectly arched eyebrow as she set down her spoon, grabbed her purse, kissed Stiles on the forehead and was out the door.

Stiles stared at Lydia’s retreating form as she exited Serendipity’s before sighing and picking up his cell phone, dialling an all too familiar number, even after this long – not that he expected an answer, but he got one anyway.

“Hey Derek,” Stiles said hesitantly into his phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this jumps between past and present - because apparently that's what I like to do. So hope it makes sense!

**Present:**

Stiles’ back hits the soft duvet of his bed, head bouncing off the soft pillows strewn across his bed – way more than actually needed and more work than it’s worth taking them off and on every night before he goes to sleep. He doesn’t care about the damn pillows right now; his back could have been thrown up against a wall, side of a car even on the kitchen counter for God sakes – because Derek is right there following his movement. Derek is _right_ there, body crawling up over Stiles’, his hands rucking Stiles’ shirt up over his perk nipples.

Any sense of rationality escapes Stiles as Derek puts his hand behind his back and lifts the shirt off of himself revealing a sculpted body, defined abs and broad shoulders. Stiles remembers the feel of Derek’s chest, how silky smooth it is – for such a rough and tumble kind of guy – Stiles remembers the way his nails used to dig into Derek’s back leaving scratches and nail-shaped dents.

Stiles doesn’t have to remember anymore, he’s experiencing it now. He can feel Derek’s dry, rough-skinned hands moving up his sides, where he’s ticklish and shivers. Stiles spreads his legs open ever so slightly, inviting Derek silently to continue his journey up Stiles’ body. Even after all this time, their mannerisms are the same – neither of them having forgotten.

Derek’s hand fumble at his jeans before he sighs getting up from where he’s looming over Stiles to shuck out of his jeans and boxers, his faithful black boxers. Stiles can’t help but chuckle at how predictable Derek is – but it’s what he fell in love with, _is_ falling in love with all over again.

Derek raises his eyebrow at Stiles’ laugh before his hands fly to Stiles’ own jeans and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans – it seems to echo off the walls, the only other noises, their harsh breathing and the whirring of the air conditioner to offset the humid July weather.

Once both rid of their clothing, Derek’s hand fist over Stiles’ cock and he hears the hitch in the younger man’s breath, from the sudden contact – Derek runs his hand over Stiles’ cock a few times, until he’s satisfied that Stiles is hard enough before he’s running his mouth up from Stiles’ navel up his chest.

He peppers kisses and nips all along Stiles’ torso, pausing at each nipple to run the pad of his tongue over each, worrying them until their red and Stiles is tugging at Derek’s hair. Derek relents and continues the short journey up to Stiles’ neck and he can’t resist but to leave a small hickey. It’s been _too_ long since he’s seen his mark on Stiles, been too long since he’s even got to mark _his_ Stiles. It’s haunted his dreams every night, whether there was some random person beside him in his bed, or he was on his own. Now it’s not a dream.

Stiles moves his neck giving Derek better access, he groans in satisfaction as he feels the nip of Derek’s teeth on his neck, the laving of a tongue tracing over the mark now branded on his body. He feels Derek take his ear between his teeth biting down gently and Stiles can’t help but arch off the bed, trying to push his body as close to Derek as possible.

“Missed this,” Stiles whispers. His nails run the length of Derek’s body. “Missed this so fucking much,” his voice breaking off.

“Me too,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ ear, “me too.”

Stiles plants his feet firmly on the mattress and Derek moves back down his body. Derek slicks his fingers up and opens Stiles’ up, a finger at a time – it doesn’t take long whether Stiles’ body remembers Derek’s fingers or he’s just so eager. Derek takes a little longer than necessary though, he wants to savour every moment, not wanting to miss the way Stiles’ squirms and writhes on the bed, mouth parted open and his lips wet where he keeps licking his lips.

Derek can hardly resist Stiles’ cock lying on his belly, flushed and just begging to be touched and who is Derek to object? Derek’s fingers are still firmly working in and out of Stiles’ hole, his free hand guiding Stiles’ cock into his mouth taking as much as he can. Its sensor over-load from Stiles, he kicks a leg out and moans, his hands fisted in his mouth – not that he needs to be quiet.

“ _Derek,_ ” he pleads.

He doesn’t waste time to slick his own cock, and he hopes to God he can last. Just watching Stiles alone, naked his whole body flushed red is enough to make him come. How he even survived this past year is beyond him.

“Ready?” Derek asks – he knows Stiles is ready, can tell, but still asks.

Stiles nods his head emphatically and Derek can’t help but break out in a smile.

Derek’s on his knees grabs Stiles’ thighs as Stiles positions his legs just to the side of Derek’s shoulders and Derek guide himself in. He groans just as the tip of his cock enters Stiles and it’s like everything he’s remembered and dreamed of, yet just as exciting as their first time – how many ever years ago that was.

They both keep their eyes open, neither of them wanting to miss a beat of this – scared it’ll be over too soon or a figment of their imagination. Derek begins to rock into Stiles’ with more force each thrust, his hands gripping at Stiles’ upper thigh. Stiles’ ass and back arch off the bed with each thrust and he doesn’t bother trying to contain his cries.

Stiles has one hand gripping at the pillow beneath his head, the other wrapping around his cock – he screws his eyes shut like he’s concentrating on something too hard.

“You with me?” Derek grunts between thrusts.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Stiles breaths and he knows he’s close can feel his balls tightening up, his stomach clenching – his ass clenching in response and he can hear Derek groan above him – he feels too hot, too sweaty and within a few seconds, a few more strokes Stiles is coming.

“Derek,” is the only thing that tumbles past his lips as his come spurts, splattering on his chest and it’s enough for Derek snap his hips a few more times before he follows suit emptying himself in Stiles.

-

**Past:**

It wasn’t easy getting here, not by a long shot – but they managed.

 _“Listen, I know I probably have no right to ask, not right at all. But do you think it’s even in the realm of possibility that we can like have a redo?”_ Stiles had asked hesitantly.

He was surprised that Derek had even picked up his phone when he had called after Lydia left him deserted in Serendipity’s. In Derek’s defence he probably hadn’t realised it was Stiles calling considering Stiles had gotten a new phone number. But Derek answered, and agreed albeit begrudgingly meet Stiles at Serendipity’s.

But who was Derek kidding? He could have pretended all he wanted but the minute Stiles called, he’d go running like the love whipped idiot that he was.

When Derek doesn’t answer right away, Stiles toys with the spoon pushing it around in the melted ice cream from the Golden Opulence, anything to cause a distraction, from Derek’s eyes boring into him.

 _“I know I have a lot to make up for okay? I know I shouldn’t have shoved those papers at you. I shouldn’t have thought divorce was the answer and I definitely shouldn’t have tried to hurt you before you hurt me. Consider it a lesson learned and one I don’t want to ever experience again,”_ Stiles emphasized by meeting Derek’s eye. _“I’m willing to do what it takes, therapy, us just talking it out on our own. I’ll even go to a Knicks game with you, hell I’ll buy damn season tickets if you want.”_

That’s when he sees Derek smile –well it’s hardly a smile but his lips tug up at the corner. He’d tried to get Stiles to go to a Knicks game with him ever since they moved to New York, but Stiles hates basketball and always told him to go with one of his cop friends.

 _“About kids-”_ Stiles starts.

_“I don’t care about kids Stiles, I told you that a million times. I wanted to be with **you.** ” _

_“Wanted?”_ Stiles questioned hesitantly.

Derek sighed, rubbed his hands over his beard before he spoke next, _“want, always did and always will.”_

That’s enough to put Stiles at ease, tension draining out of his body and colour coming back to his face. He smiles at Derek and suggest they order some food, talk a little bit.

Derek opted out of the whole therapy concept, although it may work for others he’s not much of one to talk and gush about his feelings with other people – they’d try it their way first. If worse comes to worse than they’d try therapy. But they _talked_ and _talked_. Derek reassured Stiles over and over that having kids wasn’t a make it or break it with him. He did stress though that Stiles tendency to work, and overwork himself was a problem – on both their parts.

They got into too a comfortable situation where they worked and worked, putting it down to “that’s life” and “bills to pay.” They’d both need to sort out on cutting their work schedules down. They even went on dates, like when they first started dating. Going out to dinners, taking turns paying, Stiles surprised Derek by going to a Knicks game – courtside. Derek surprised Stiles by taking the ferry, the way Stiles likes to, to clear his head. And if Derek let Stiles pay for more meals than he did, if Derek got to choose the desserts when he had always let Stiles, or pick the movies they’d watch – well Derek considered that as Stiles trying to make up and he’d take advantage of it while he could.

Simon was long gone and certainly not missed, only a reminder of a dark place in Derek’s life. Adriano, Stiles couldn’t man up but to ignore his calls until he caught on and stopped calling. Neither of them talked about what or who they did with their free time in the year that they were separated, instead going to the doctor’s getting tested, getting the all clear and that being the end of their conversation. They’d rather not know what _really_ went on.

-

**Present:**

“What time do you have to be at your community service?” Derek said into the crook of Stiles’ neck – where he collapsed and sought comfort right after sex.

Stiles groans tapping Derek on the back of the head in reprimand, “in like an hour man. Way to ruin the glow.”

“Next time maybe you shouldn’t break into an impound yard.”

“ **Next time,** maybe I shouldn’t date the guy who’s going to throw my ass in jail. Or run faster and hide better next time he tries to catch me,” Stiles points out.

Derek nips at Stiles neck in retaliation, and really Derek doesn’t want to have to throw Stiles’ ass in jail again _nor_ does he want to get caught for aiding and abetting a fugitive.

Stiles laughs, wide mouthed throwing his head back in the most expressive laugh that’s just so Stiles as he pushed Derek off of him so he could get up and off the bed. It wouldn’t due to be late to community service – no matter that it’s literally picking up garbage on the side of the street – he really didn’t need any more hours added on, he isn’t Lindsay Lohan.

He cleans the dried off come on his stomach, and shucks his boxers and  jeans back on and throwing on the first t-shirt he can find. He’s not going to waste time showering when again; he’s _picking up garbage_ on the side of the street.

The first time Stiles went to his community service meeting, he had no idea what to expect, was he supposed to bring cigarettes to barter with the others there, carry a makeshift shiv? Or were they just like him, got done for something petty and stupid. The last thing he needed though was Derek dropping him off like a little kid, only for one of the other people to see Derek and say “ _hey that’s a cop, that’s the one that threw me in jail”_ or “ _hey, that’s the bounty hunter that threw me in jail.”_ No, Stiles wanted to get out alive, so he showed up, put on his fluorescent vest, and grimy gloves picked up all the garbage he could and then booked it out of there as soon as he could.

Stiles leaned over the bed - where Derek’s laying on his stomach, face squished into the pillows and presses a kiss to Derek’s lips, smacks his ass and says bye, heading out the door and to the dreaded community service. 38 community hours left, and counting.

-

**Past:**

_“Mr Stilinski, you’re telling me you want to **stop** the proceedings for divorce?”_ Stiles lawyer Mr Rosling asked, looking baffled from where he sat in his seat behind his large immaculately clean glass table. Stiles wondered how there weren’t any finger prints on the table. _“The paperwork has been filled out and ready to send off.”_

 _“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We no longer need a divorce,”_ Stiles smiles, his hand reaching for Derek’s where he sits beside him – looking very uncomfortable in such a fancy office.

 _“Mr Stilinski, Stiles. As your lawyer I ask to speak to you, separately from Mr Hale for a moment,”_ Mr Rosling is leafing through a green manila folder that presumably holds Stiles’ divorce papers, signed by both him and Derek.

_“Mr Rosling, the mistake was asking for the divorce in the first place. I see you have the paperwork there, put it through the shredder and that’s done with. I’m still happy to pay for your services.”_

Mr Rosling sighed, emptied the folder that holds all of Stiles’ divorce papers and lets them slip through the crack of the paper shredder, being torn and shredded into hundreds of little pieces of paper. _“Forget about the fees Mr Stilinski, between your legal needs of Mr Walsh and myself this past year you’ll still be keeping us in business I’m sure.”_

Stiles can’t stop the heat that spreads across his cheek because yeah this past year he’s gotten himself into a little more trouble than strictly necessary between breaking and entering, getting a divorce – well almost divorce, and other little bits of trouble all in the name of a good news article.

Stiles claps his hands together and stands up, “ _well then I’m still married, still a Hale!_ ” He shakes Mr Rosling’s hand and drags Derek out of the lawyer’s office; it’s a definite cause for celebration.

**Present:**

Stiles curses to himself as he drops his keys into the little bowl near the front of the door. He’s soaked in sweat and smells like garbage, literally like garbage. “34 community hours left and counting,” he yells out.

He can hear Derek laugh from where he’s sitting in the TV room, reclined and drinking a crisp beer – and isn’t _that_ the life, not picking up used condoms and cigarette butts. “Your dad called, told him you’d call him later, that you were out running errands.”

“Thank the Lord,” Stiles mutters bypassing Derek and heading straight to the shower.

Yeah Stiles’ dad may know about his and Derek’s separation, then their reunion but he’s not in the know regarding what actually happened in the middle of those two events. Stiles prefers to think of it as a blip in time. There’s _no_ reason that papa Stilinski needs to know that Stiles got arrested, bailed out on his court date and then had a warrant out for his arrest – no his _Sheriff_ father definitely does not need to know that. Thankfully Derek understands that much as well.

Stiles lets the hot water run down his back, longer than necessary soothing his sore muscles. He scrubs his body clean ridding himself of any dirt and sweat, replacing it with his pomegranate scented soap – the one Derek makes fun of him for using, yet Derek still runs his nose along Stiles’ neck and inhales, so how badly could he really hate it?

When Stiles it out of the shower he plops down on the bed and calls his dad at the station, hoping he’s still in and not out on a call.

“Hey Dad,” Stiles said when his dad picked up the phone.

“Stiles! How are you son?” the Sheriff asks, and they fall into their familiar pattern of conversation.

How everyone’s doing, how Ms McCall is, Scott and Allison. When is Stiles and Derek coming back home to visit? It’s the same sort of conversation they have every time, but Stiles knows better than to take it for granted. So he assures his dad that they’ll be back to visit soon enough, and in the mean time they can book a ticket for him to come out to New York and visit.

**Past:**

_“Plastic cutlery, paper plates,”_ Stiles scoffed. He was helping Derek pack up his dingy apartment so they could move everything back into Stiles’ new, larger apartment – one with a doorman, and no wood and newspaper covering a broken window. _“Dare I even look in the cupboards?”_

Stiles walks the short distance to Derek’s cupboards and open it up to see a few cans of beans, ramen noodles and a box of cereal.

_“Jesus Christ Derek, how you managed without me, I don’t even know.”_

_“Well then don’t let it happen again,”_ Derek warns Stiles, he says it as a joke but they both know it’s more than a joke; it’s as serious as either of them could get.  

 _“Well back to proper home-cooked meals,”_ Stiles said, turned around and continued to pack up the lacking contents of Derek’s kitchen. It wasn’t even so much as packing as throwing it all in a garbage bag to throw in the dumpster out back.

Derek’s mindful to clean out the bathroom on his own, throwing out Simon’s toothbrush and ridding any evidence of Simon ever being in the apartment, he dumps the condoms too. Fortunately he and Simon weren’t in an _actual_ relationship, so there’s no awkward giving of stuff back, saying goodbyes or anything. Once the toothbrush and condoms hit the bottom of the trash can, any trace of has vanished into thin air.

Stiles had offered that they could look for a new place to live, after all they did have their nice house they lived in before – although now sold, they could always look for another place, one they both liked. Derek shook his head saying Stiles’ apartment was fine, even though he had made fun of Stiles’ place when he first went there to pick up Stiles to haul him into jail he had to admit he actually kind of liked it – so long as they don’t have to talk to Stiles’ pretentious neighbours. Besides, moving was such a hassle and moving Derek’s limited belonging to Stiles’ apartment was enough work as it is.

On the plus side now Derek doesn’t have to move the Camaro Stiles had bargained with back to his apartment, it can stay tucked into the secure parking garage at the apartment rather than sitting on the street in Brooklyn, where it’s likely to be broken in to. Everything was definitely working out.

**Present:**

It’s early October, a few months they’ve been officially back together – the air crisp, leaves changing to different shades of yellows and oranges, cold enough to wear a sweater and still be warm enough, both Derek and Stiles’ favourite season. Who can resist apple cider, pumpkins and hay rides? There wasn’t a lot to do in Beacon Hills okay, they took Halloween seriously.

Derek had considered going back to being a cop but decided against it. If he were being honest with himself, he liked being a Bounty Hunter. He pretty much got to work his own hours; Boyd didn’t bother him so long as he got his fugitives in on time. Plus, with being a bounty hunter Derek has more time for Stiles – Stiles who really is making an effort not to work so hard and chase every good story in New York.

That being said, Stiles is seated at the front of a court room – thankfully _not_ in trouble himself this time, rather writing a piece on a trial going on at the moment. He’s riveted about what’s being unfolded in the courtroom, also a little sick at what’s hearing – but he’s itching to get out of here and call Derek. The sentencing should be done in a few hours.

**To: Derek Hale**

“Get to the Court House ASAP!!”

Derek was just about to get on the subway and head home when he had gotten Stiles’ text and immediately got on the other subway heading in the opposite direction, towards Stiles.  

He was out of breath as he jogged when he saw Stiles sitting on the steps in front of the court house, presumably reading the article he’d been working on. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Stiles, curious as to what he wanted though.

Stiles looked up, sensing someone staring at him when he saw Derek walking towards him. He smiled, tucked the papers into his satchel and stood up. “Okay, don’t freak out or anything,” Stiles hedged.

“ **Stiles** ,” Derek warned, “what have you done?”

“Nothing. Yet,” Stiles smirked and grabbed Derek’s hand leading him into the court house.

Stiles led Derek through the court house, winding through various corridors, he started to become unsettled and couldn’t help but feel like Stiles was about to break the law or something equally horrifying. They appeared at a large wooden door that looked like all the other doors they’d passed, when Stiles knocked on the door and opened it. He stepped inside, dragging Derek in behind him.

Derek walked into the room, where there was a large wooden table, 5 or 6 chairs tucked in. Two of the chairs were filled, one an elderly lady, probably in her 50’s with greying hair and horn-rimmed glasses. The other chair was filled with a little boy, with blonde curly hair, watery blue eyes he couldn’t be any older than two years old – playing with large blocked Lego toys that was built to look like a construction site. The little boy was driving the little yellow dump truck, ramming it into the Lego to watch it tumble before he started to rebuild it.

The elderly lady looked up when she heard the door open, smiled and set down the papers. “Stiles,” was all she said still smiling.

“Judy,” Stiles replied smiling, “This is Derek. Derek, Judy,” he said as an introduction.

Derek nodded his head, extending his hand as Judy stood to shake his hand. His eyes flitted back to the little boy, who looked up to see who these new people were that entered the room. The little boy stared at Derek for a few minutes, and then his eyes wandered to Stiles.

“Sti,” the little boy said smiling and then went back to his Lego construction site.

Stiles beamed, walking closer to the little boy and turned to face Derek. “Derek, meet Isaac,” he placed his hands on Isaac’s shoulder, “I want to adopt him.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

“What the -,” Derek started, “What the –” he said again before turning and walking out the door. He really didn’t need to swear in front of a little child, he had some decency after all. Once outside of the room, he started to pace the little bit of hallway. Derek had no idea what was going on, he and Stiles had been doing well, they’re getting along, working on their issues and Derek has accepted a life with Stiles – one without children, at Stiles request none the less.

“Derek?” Stiles asked as he peeked his head out the door. “You okay?” he finished as he closed the door behind him so it was just him and Derek in the hallway – Isaac and Judy inside.

“What the fuck Stiles?” Derek wiped his hands over his face, continued pacing.

“Okay so I know I kind of sprung this on you –”

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want kids, we were too busy, had a hectic life and now?” Derek interrupted.

Stiles grabbed Derek by the wrist and guided him to one of the benches on the opposite side of the hallway, sat down and dragged Derek to sit beside him. Stiles turned a little, so that he faced Derek before he spoke next.

“Like I said, I know I’m kind of springing this on you, especially after it was me that didn’t want kids. But whenever you talked about kids before, we _were_ busy and it was always about surrogates, and jerking off into a plastic container, waiting about to hear if the surrogate is pregnant and it was just all _too_ much – it wasn’t something I wanted. While the idea of having a kid that’s half genetically mine, or half genetically yours is nice, it’s just too much work and too clinical, in my opinion at least.”

“I – I guess we never considered adoption,” Derek conceded, nodded his head like he understood.

“But then I sat in that court room, it was supposed to be like any other work day, writing an article about a criminal, hand it in and get paid. But then the lawyers started talking about a little boy, a little boy whose mother is dead, whose father is a drug addict, deals petty drugs, committed multiple crimes and worst of all _abused_ his son. The lawyers showed pictures Derek, pictures that made me sick to my stomach. Pictures of the bruises Isaac’s father had caused. One thing led to another and I was talking to a social worker about Isaac, at first I just wanted to know that he was going to go to a good, caring home, one he deserves. But Judy told me that Isaac doesn’t have any other family, none at least that would remotely be considered a “good caring home,” she said he’d be placed in foster care until someone could adopt him.”

Derek stared on in horror as Stiles explained everything to him; he couldn’t imagine such a thing, a father abusing his son. Derek had come for a caring, close-knit family – before everything. He remembers his father taking him camping, fishing and just playing ball out in the back yard. He doesn’t remember a time his father laid a hand on him in anything but a nurturing way.

“It broke my heart Derek, this little boy has no mother and his father turned into an alcoholic, a criminal that just spiralled out, probably was even before the mother died. It just freaked me out, you know? Judy let me see Isaac, he was so shy but when he smiled it literally melted my heart dude. I started seeing him every day after court; I don’t think Judy was supposed to let me, but whatever. Now I can’t picture a better home for him, than ours.”

“How long have you been going to see him?” Derek asked.

“Since the case started, about a week and a half.”

“And you kept this from me?”

“I wanted to tell you like a thousand and one times, I thought I was going to blurt it out. But I didn’t know if it was in the realm of possibility that we’d be able to adopt him, I didn’t know about the procedures and all that.” Stiles placed his hands on either side of Derek’s face so they were looking directly at each other, “but now that I know it’s a possibility, Judy has said as much, I thought I’d tell you. We make this decision together.”

Derek sighed, placed his hand on Stiles’ wrist as Stiles’ thumbs were placing soothing circles on Derek’s cheek. “Stiles, you could have told me as soon as you met him, I would have been nothing but supportive.”

Stiles beamed, his eyes lighting up brighter than fireworks on New Year’s Eve, leaned in and placed a kiss on Derek’s lips. “Then let’s go meet Isaac, properly.”

Derek followed behind Stiles as they entered the room where Judy and Isaac were still in. Isaac was still playing with his Lego set and Judy was typing something into her cell phone. Isaac looked up as soon as he heard the door open, eyes going wide then relaxed when he saw Stiles.

“Hey little man,” Stiles started a smile plastered on his face, “want to meet Derek? We like him, a lot.”

Isaac nodded his head hesitantly as he tried to slide out of his chair. Derek noticed immediately as Isaac managed to get out of the chair, his little t-shirt riding up, showing the top of his bulgy diaper that there were purple and blue splotches covering his stomach – probably everywhere else on his body – bruises.

Derek felt like he was going to be sick, bile rising up in his throat at seeing the bruises. He was glad he wasn’t a cop anymore because if he ever saw Isaac’s dad he couldn’t be held responsible for what happened. Even when he was a cop, he didn’t deal much with family disputes or domestic disturbances – he mainly worked the drug force.

Isaac started walking towards him and Stiles, a foam green blanket – that was in serious need of a wash – trailing on the ground behind him. He stopped when he was in front of Stiles and Derek and looked up, his watery blue eyes hesitant but still curious.

Derek knelt down so that he was eye-level with Isaac, a smile taking over his face – any thought of what he wanted to do to Isaac’s father gone from his mind. “Hi Isaac, I’m Derek.”

“Der-reck” Isaac repeated trying to sound out Derek’s name; it was a bit of a mouthful for a toddler.

Derek could hear Stiles behind him, literally cooing and he couldn’t stop the surge of love not only for Stiles, but for the love he and Stiles could both provide Isaac. Show him a life that’s full of love and happiness, not a life full of abuse and hatred.

“Is that your favourite blanky?” Derek asked only for Isaac to nod a yes. “I had one when I was little too, mine was blue. I carried it _everywhere_ with me.” Isaac smiled at Derek, pulled the blanket from behind him and handed a corner of the blanket for Derek to hold.

Derek took hold of the blanket, rubbing it between his fingers as Isaac sat on the floor holding the other end. Apparently Isaac didn’t seem to mind sharing with Derek, even his favourite blanky. So Derek sat down on the ground as well, holding the blanket. Isaac looked up at to where Stiles was standing, lifted another side of the blanket and held it up for Stiles – so Stiles grabbed hold of it, sat down as they formed a triangle all just holding a ratty old blanket.

Derek had fallen in love in a matter of minutes and there was no going back now, they were going to adopt Isaac.

-

Normally, it takes anywhere between nine months to a year and a half to go through with an adoption. Paperwork to fill out, orientations, preparation classes and so on, but it pays to be a cop, even an ex-cop. Derek and his ex-co-workers used to play basketball on a team that consisted of some judges – so it’s not too hard to call in a favour.

Stiles and Derek hired a lawyer, fortunately Stiles already knew many lawyers thanks to Mr Walsh and Mr Rosling helping him out when he got into a little trouble. So they got their family lawyer, Judy the social worker and approached a Judge about expediting the whole adoption process.

Fortunately for Stiles and Derek the Judge was willing to overlook the fact that Stiles had gotten into some trouble this past year with the law. Both of them were more than able to prove that they came from a loving family background, had steady jobs albeit Derek’s dangerous, and were financially capable of raising a child.

Judy spoke on their behalf of how Isaac and bonded really well with both Stiles and Derek, where Isaac was normally quiet and kept to himself which was understandable enough considering his past. Judy emphasized that placing Isaac with Stiles and Derek could only benefit Isaac in the future.

Happily the Judge pulled through and granted Stiles and Derek full parental custody of Isaac in a matter of months rather than the year and a half it could have taken.

-

For once in Derek’s life, he didn’t object when Stiles wanted to spend money on every new little gadget – this time because it was all for Isaac. They were in the process of getting their house ready for Isaac, so that he’d be comfortable in his new home.

Stiles had even managed to find a paint colour that almost replicated the colour of Isaac’s blanky – when it was clean of course. They painted the four walls the sea foam green, hanging pictures of everything Isaac liked, ranging from pictures of Mickey Mouse to characters from Baby Looney Tunes. They bought him a wooden bed in the shape of a pirate ship, a large skull and bones flag at one end with shelf space to place a night light and his favourite toys he wanted near-by and a little bell on the other side.

 By the end of the redecoration of Isaac’s new room both Stiles and Derek agreed they would have totally loved to have had this bedroom when they were little. Now they just had to hope Isaac would love it just as much.

-

Isaac entered his new home on a Friday evening. Stiles had scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom, getting every nook and cranny, moving wires and ridding any trace of dirt or dust. It was the only thing he could do during the day to keep himself from getting so worked up, waiting for evening to come. Derek and Stiles both agreed to take the day off, to have a long weekend to welcome Isaac into their house – all three’s house.

Judy knocked on the door at a quarter to six, Isaac standing beside her with a little backpack on that could hardly fit anything but a few toys, his faithful blanky tight in his grip.

Stiles opened the door, Derek right behind him all smiling at each other.

“Sti! Der!” Isaac beamed – he’d long since given up trying to pronounce Derek.

“Isaac!” Both Stiles and Derek said back, squatting down as Isaac barrelled into their open arms forming a three-way hug.

Judy stood at the entrance of the door smiling; she took out her phone and snapped a picture of the hug that was going on in front of her. She knew that they’d want to document these little moments, as many of them as they could. She had a suitcase at her side that had all of Isaac’s stuff – the stuff that was worth saving from his old house.

Stiles and Derek ushered Judy inside, so that she could take a final look at the house before she was gone and Stiles, Derek and Isaac could start their new life as a family.

“What do you say we go look at your new room?” Stiles asked Isaac, who was holding his hand.

“Yeah!” Isaac grinned, taking hold of Derek’s hand as well and followed the three adults.

“Ready?” Derek asked tussling Isaac’s hair as they stood outside of the closed bedroom door. Isaac nodded his head.

They opened the door and let Isaac walk in on his own, taking in the whole room. His eye whipped around the room trying to take it all in, it was as if he didn’t know where to look first. He ran towards the bed, and started to climb onto it. “Boat!” he said as he sat in the middle of the bed looking around.

He soon got off the bed and ran towards the large mat that was under the large window. The matt had little roads painted on to it, with little buildings and toy cars on top of it. It was the kind that you could drive the little cars on top of the matt, winding around the little roads.

“Micky. Bugs Bunny,” Isaac continued, looking at the pictures of the wall.

“Do you like your room Isaac?” Judy asked. She placed his suitcase near the closet.

“Yes!” Isaac answered nodding his head vigorously, trying to convey how much he really loved it.

“You play with your new toys Isaac; we’ll be right back, okay?” Derek said.

The three adults made their way back towards the front door, Judy getting ready to leave.

“I really don’t think there was a better home possible for Isaac. He loves you two so much, and I can see how much you two love him as well,” Judy said.

“We won’t let him down, I promise” Stiles declared.

Judy chuckled, as she zipped up her jacket. “New parents,” she rolled her eyes, “You two will undoubtedly let him down at some point whether it’s because he can’t have a new toy, or you won’t buy him a car or whatever else it may be. But as long as you love him, and he knows he’s loved then it all works out. You two will find yourselves feeling more than overwhelmed at times, some nights he may cry or throw a tantrum for no reason other than he can’t convey what exactly he wants, I have no doubt you’ll get through it though. But please, feel free to call me if you ever need anything.”

Judy handed the men her business card, with her personal cell phone number scrawled on the back. Judy had become something like a mentor to them, telling them little details they might need to know in the future, and they trusted and respected her.

“Thank you, so much Judy. I mean it,” Stiles whispered brining Judy into a hug. Derek knew Stiles was trying not to cry, he had to admit he was a tad emotional himself.

“See you around Judy,” Derek hugged Judy once Stiles had released her.

“Good luck,” she laughed as she exited the apartment heading towards the elevators.

-

It was mid-January when Isaac finally moved in, they really wanted to spend Christmas together in their new home but there were some procedures that had to be followed and the timing just didn’t work out. That didn’t stop them from buying Isaac tons of presents anyway, and taking tons of pictures.

The first night he spent in his room, he cried non-stop. He had fallen asleep okay, Stiles and Derek kissing him good night. He must have woken up in the middle of the night, forgetting where he was and started crying, crying so much his breath kept hitching.

Stiles and Derek spent the rest of the night in the room, trying to soothe Isaac telling him it was all okay. Eventually Isaac tired himself out, from all the crying and fell right asleep. After that, Isaac became better at sleeping through the night, only waking up and crying out a few nights, Stiles and Derek took turns going in and checking on him.

Judy had told them it was likely to happen, so they were prepared. They read the books, searched the internet and really did rely on Judy to help them.

-

A week after Isaac moved in, Stiles was at the airport waiting for his father’s flight to come in.

“You okay kid? You’re squirming in your seat like you either gotta piss or you need to go back on your meds” papa Stilinski asked from where he was seated in the passenger seat.

Stiles _was_ squirming but only because was excited for his dad to meet Isaac. It also happened that papa Stilinski didn’t even _know_ about Isaac. When Derek and Stiles had first agreed to adopt Isaac, they didn’t want to mention it to anyone, not even Stiles’ dad because if for some reason it fell through everyone would be heart broken. Then, when it was official and Isaac first moved in, they wanted to spend the first week just the three of them so Isaac could get used to his new home, he was still a timid little boy that scared easily.

So really, keeping quiet was in the best interest but now Stiles couldn’t wait for his father to meet his son, _his_ grandson.

“So uh Dad, I – well Derek and I kind of have some news,” Stiles hedged as they stood in the elevator as they ascended to the right floor.

“I hope it’s good news,” Stiles’ dad sighed, “I can’t take any more of your drama, I’m getting too old for this. I might drop dead.”

“No, no it’s good news,” Stiles corrected as he fished out the keys from his pocket to unlock the apartment door, “and you might not want to drop dead just yet.”

Stiles opened the door, as the Baby Looney Tunes song blared.

_“Hey there everybody, it's a looniful day_

_Too have a little fun, the Baby Looney Tunes way_

_There's lots to do at Granny's house...”_

“What the hell?” Stiles’ dad said, looking at Stiles and raising an eyebrow as if Stiles had gone crazy.

Stiles just smiled and yelled, “I’m home!”

“Sti! Sti!” Isaac said running to the front door, Derek chasing after him.

“ **Stiles** ,” papa Stilinski started.

Stiles reached down and scooped up a giggling Isaac.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet Isaac. Our son.”

“Your son,” the Sheriff said, not asked. “ **Your son?** ”

“Isaac meet your grandpa, Dave. We like him, a lot!”

Isaac stared at Dave, studying him before his hand gave a little wave and he smiled.

“Well hello there, little guy,” the Sheriff said.

Soon enough Isaac was dragging the Sheriff by his hands to the family room so that they could all watch Baby Looney Tunes, because Isaac did not want to miss a minute of it. He bounced along to the theme song and sat riveted as the events unfolded.

While Isaac was watching his show, it gave Stiles and Derek enough time to explain to Dave what was going on, how it all transpired and why they couldn’t tell him right away. By the end of the story, Dave sighed saying “ _only you, Stiles”_ but he was smiling, genuinely happy for his son and son-in-law. He was just excited and happy to be a grandfather – he thought he’d never see the day.

-

The next morning, after eating breakfast they all dressed up in their warmest clothes, Derek getting Isaac into his puffy snow suit that made him look like the Michelin man, with his blue hat and matching gloves. They all squeezed into the car and made their way to Battery Park for a picnic.

Well, it wasn’t so much a picnic as buying hot chocolate from one of those street vendors trying to keep warm. It was all worth it though, to see Isaac jumping around in the snow trying to leave his footprints everywhere, his tiny legs sinking into the snow, as if he were going to disappear.

There was a little stall selling random things from prints of the New York skyline, to sunglasses, to hats and sleds. Dave couldn’t resist buying a little red plastic sled. Isaac giddily sat on the snow sled as Dave ran around the park pulling Isaac along in the snow, going over little bumps that probably felt like mountains to Isaac, his squeals echoing throughout the park.

Soon enough Dave was too tired to keep pulling Isaac around and had to rest, sitting on one of the park benches and Derek took over. Stiles sat beside him.

“I gotta hand it to you Stiles, this is really something.”

“It really is,” Stiles hummed in agreement.

“I can’t believe I have a grandson!”

“I can’t believe I have a son!” Stiles screeched, “it just wasn’t something I ever pictured.”

“Like father, like son,” Dave laughed, “when I met your mom I was selfish, I wanted to spend all my time with her. She finally talked to some sense into me; we got married and had you. Best decision we’ve ever made.”

“I’m starting to see that,” Stiles nodded as he looked to where Derek was rolling around in the snow, Isaac on top of him laughing.

“I only wish I didn’t have to go back to California,” Dave sighed.

“Well now you have more reason to visit more often and you know, retire. Move out and live a life of luxury in New York.”

“Don’t tempt me kid,” Dave laughed.

-

It still hit Stiles like a tidal wave sometimes, one minute he’d be in the kitchen making dinner and the next he’d hear the laugh or the temper tantrum of Isaac and he was reminded all over again, he was a _father._ He and Derek were parents. Parents to a perfect little boy. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t blood; no DNA test could sway or alter the love they had for their little boy.

He only hoped that they’d always make Isaac the happiest little boy possible, and that he and Derek would continue to work on their relationship and _their_ needs. He knew how it was so easy to get wrapped up in having a kid that your partner ended up getting forgotten. Stiles didn’t think he’d let Derek get forgotten and vice-versa, they’d already been down that road and had no intentions of going back there.

-

Derek couldn’t believe that he’s gotten everything in his life that he ever wanted. He and Stiles are back together, and as happy as could be. He has a _son_ , something he’s wanted for such a long time.

His heart still swelled every time he saw Stiles and Isaac playing together, couldn’t help but laugh when they would give Isaac a bubble bath and turn his mop of blond curls into a Mohawk and a beard made of bubbles. Or the time when Isaac finally called Stiles and him Dad, or Dada, it wasn’t like they needed the conformation, but it was just as heart-warming as ever.

The bruises of Isaac’s past long gone, faded into nothingness, his skin perfectly pale and unblemished. It evaporated like it was a lifetime ago, and it really was because Isaac would never go back to a life like that, and while he might have emotional scars when he’s older, or still be a timid boy cautious of all new people he met he’d never again have to worry about his parent’s hurting him.

Both Derek and Stiles would die before that happened.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter after this, more so of an epilogue kinda thing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Three Years Later:**

“That’s the lasts of it," Stiles heaved wiping his brow to rid the sweat. He’d just finished taping up one of the many boxes scattered across their apartment living room.

“How does one even accumulate this much shit?” Derek asked trying to pile the boxes on top of each other so they could at least move around the room.

Isaac was currently at pre-school which he hated at first, cried and threw a tantrum clinging to Stiles or Derek when they tried to leave. They still had the occasional days where Isaac would try and keep whoever dropped him off around but for the most part Isaac started to deal with being without his parents a little better. He even made a few friends who were shy just like him; he even got better at play dates, and interacted with the other kids.

Without Isaac running around the house causing mayhem like the little monster that he was, allowed Stiles and Derek to finish packing up the last of their bits. The moving company were to show up sometime tomorrow morning, to start shipping everything back - to California.

Isaac would be turning five in a few months, meaning this coming September he’d be old enough to start kindergarten. Stiles and Derek stayed up late a few nights going back and forth about enrolling in a New York school, or going back to their hometown and enrolling Isaac in a Beacon Hills school. They consulted Judy, their faithful social worker and close friend asking if it would hinder Isaac’s progressing uprooting him to a whole new town.

Judy assured them that she believed Isaac would be more than okay. It wasn’t like Isaac hasn’t been to Beacon Hills multiple times before. When Stiles’ dad couldn’t come up, they’d fly down there. Isaac even got along with Scott’s kids, although a little older than Isaac – but Scott’s kids protected Isaac in that “loving brother and sister way.”

Plus Stiles’ dad didn’t get to come up very often, and although he was due to retire in the upcoming year, he was hesitant about moving out to New York, even if it meant being closer to his son and grandson. His mortgage was paid off first of all, and he didn’t like the idea of selling the house where his son had grown up, where he’d lived with his wife. Even though Stiles’ mom was deceased, she was buried in Beacon Hills and although morbid Papa Stilinski wanted to stick around, should he die he could be easily buried next to his wife.

When Stiles told Mr Gilmore – his boss – that he’d be resigning, was moving back to Beacon Hills, he flipped his shit. He asked how Stiles was going to find a job in Beacon Hills, what the hell kind of crime went on there, and how was he supposed to survive without his best crime reporter? Stiles had chuckled saying Mr Gilmore would be more than surprised about the interesting crimes that went on in Beacon Hills, and he already had a job lined up. As for Mr Gilmore losing his best crime reporter; well he’d just have to deal.

Derek was giving up his job as a bounty hunter. There wasn’t much call for one in Beacon Hills; there was however an upcoming position as Sheriff thanks to Stiles’ dad retiring. Even if Derek didn’t get the Sheriff position, someone else would be promoted and there would be a job opening and Derek had every intention of taking it. Everyone on the police force already knew Derek was interested, so he was pretty much guaranteed a job.

“Don’t act like this is my entire stuff buddy, see that box over there?” Stiles asked pointing his finger at the stack of boxes, so Derek had no idea what box he was actually talking about, “that is full of sports stuff, **definitely** not my shit.” But Stiles can’t really concentrate, not when Derek is shirtless, sweat glistening over the planes of his abs, slick from moving all the boxes. It’s really distracting and Derek shouldn’t be allowed to _look_ like that, unless he wanted trouble.

“You’re the one that wanted me to teach Isaac how to play sports,” Derek shrugs, moving closer to Stiles. He grabs hold of the waist of Stiles’ jeans, pulling him in closer until they’re face to face. “We have a good half an hour or so, before we have to pick Isaac up,” Derek murmurs, latching his lips to the side of Stiles’ neck. He runs his tongue over the pulse point, sucking just hard enough to leave a trace of a tiny mark, nothing too visible.

Stiles sighs bringing his hands up to Derek’s shoulders, running his hands down his arms, tilting his head to the side allowing Derek better access. His hands run down the smooth skin of Derek’s back, sliding into the back of Derek’s jeans so he has a handful of Derek’s ass covered by his boxers. He squeezes gently, nails digging in before he speaks again, “please tell me you didn’t pack the lube.”

“Strip,” Derek commands unlatching himself from Stiles’ neck, walking away to dig through some boxes.

Stiles obeys immediately shucking out of his jeans and pulling his t-shirt over in a haste, letting it pile on the ground, he’s just out of his boxers when Derek turns back around, bottle of lube in hand.

Derek’s hands are on Stiles pushing him until his back hits the now bare walls, “wish we could take this slow,” rumbles Derek dropping to his knees. He grips Stiles’ semi-hard cock giving it a few strokes before he’s slicking up one of his fingers, reaching around to circle Stiles’ hole.

“Wish I could spread you out on the couch one last time, licking you open until you’re soaking and begging me to _finally_ fuck you. Just like the first time we christened the couch.”

Stiles keens, hips bucking forward as Derek breaches, one finger inside of Stiles. Derek opens his mouth, letting the tip of Stiles’ cock past his lips into the warmth of his mouth. Derek wraps his lips around the head, swirling his tongue around before Stiles starts thrusting his hips. Derek lets him, lets Stiles set the pace as he thrusts his cock into Derek’s mouth, farther with each thrust until he’s hitting the back of Derek’s throat. He continues to open Stiles’ up, a finger at a time until he’s satisfied his husband is open enough, ready for Derek’s cock.

“Fuck. We can,” Stiles breathe hitches, “we can christen the new place. Every room. Every position.”

Derek hums his agreement, brings the hand that was opening Stiles up around and pushes at Stiles’ hips until he’s flush against the wall. Derek gives one last swipe along the underside of Stiles’ cock before he’s standing up and unzipping his jeans, bringing them and his boxers down.

He adds lube to his own dick, making sure there’s enough and grabs hold of Stiles waist, hoisting him up in the air. Stiles immediately wraps his leg around Derek, hands fastening together around the back of Derek’s neck.

“Good?” Derek asks, bringing his lips to Stiles, not bothering with an answer. The kiss is slow, a slide of tongue against tongue, nibbling and pulling of lips until they’re both chapped and red. Stiles can’t help constantly buck up as they kiss, feeling his cock slide against Derek’s stomach, slide smoothly along the sweat from packing boxes.

Derek pulls away from the kiss, as Stiles tries to chase his mouth forward to keep his lips on Derek. Derek laughs, looks down the length of their bodies, and grabs hold of his cock, lining it up against Stiles’ hole slowly pushing in. Stiles lets his head fall against Derek’s shoulder, biting down when he feels the slide of Derek’s cock in him.

Derek doesn’t move much at first, bottoming out and jerking his hips in minute movements, until Stiles bites down harder starting to whine, his thighs squeezing tighter around Derek’s waist.

“Half an hour,” Stiles reminds Derek.

Derek grunts his hand gripping harder on Stiles as he starts to move in and out.  He thrusts in harder each time, Stiles head hitting the wall but Stiles doesn’t even have it in him to care, he just holds on and enjoys the ride – well enjoys the fuck. Derek moves in closer, his tongue dipping into the sweat collecting around Stiles’ neck, running his lips along.

“ _Stiles,”_ Derek warms, his thrusts becoming more brunt and erratic than before and Stiles grips Derek’s shoulder, getting one hand in between them to give his cock a few strokes before he’s coming, making a mess of Derek’s stomach and his hands, the come dripping down between them. Derek comes soon after, his head resting on Stiles’ shoulder, trying to get his breathing under control.

Derek taps his hand on Stiles’ ass and Stiles unhooks his legs, as Derek’s softening cock slips of Stiles’ hole, his feet hitting the ground again. Stiles can already feel the come starting to leak, and while Derek usually loves the part, wanting to keep it all in, or watching it come out, they don’t have time for that, not today at least.

“Probably should have used a condom,” Stiles sighs looking at the mess they’ve both created.

Derek shrugs, they hate using condoms, only using it when they’re in a hurry and don’t want to have to deal with even more cleaning up. “We’re out.”

“You want clean up duty or Isaac duty?” Stiles asked picking up his clothes scattered on the floor.

“Isaac duty,” Derek said almost too quickly, hurrying towards the bathroom to clean off the come about to dry on his stomach. Stiles rolls his eyes, he should have known that would be his answer, but if he’s being honest he really needs a shower right now anyway.

-

The movers are at their apartment early the next morning, at 6:30 am, grabbing the boxes and taking them down the service elevator to the waiting moving van. They hired a company to move all their stuff back to Beacon Hills for them, so that they could all drive back down together.

Once the moving van is packed and Isaac is standing between his two fathers waving at the retreating van, sad to see most of his toys leaving do they bundle into the Camaro and start their drive. They’re going in a mini get away, a stay-cation since they’re staying in the same State – before they head back to the West Coast.

Derek remembers the first time they made this very drive; Stiles had suckered him in to tagging along by dangling the keys to the Camaro in front of him and offering money. He thought it would be an easy job, accompany Stiles, let him do his thing and then hand him in to the police station, easy task, double the money. How wrong he had been.

But also how right it had _all_ been. Despite their disastrous start to the journey, building a campsite – one they never even spent any time in, to rowing across a lake and getting stuck in a mesh net and fearing that they were actually going to die. They thought they were going to survive, once they’d met the tribe and accepted the offer of playing lacrosse – only to get abandoned in the woods _again_ , sans the netting. Despite it all and looking back at it now, Derek knows it’s what saved their relationship in some round about, ass backwards way it’s what brought them back together. They have the Blood Moon Pack to thanks for that.

A few hours into their drive, Isaac was passed out in the back seat having grown tired of playing I Spy with Stiles when they pulled up to the entrance to Adirondack Park, paid their admission fees and were strapping into life jackets.

“Boat, like my bed!” Isaac exclaimed pointing at the canoe they were going to be getting into soon.

“Not as grand as your bed, but fully functional,” Stiles noted as Derek double checked that Isaac’s life jacket was snug and in place and hoisted him up and placed him into the canoe. Derek and Stiles getting in right behind him.

“You going to help dad row?” Derek asked as Isaac looked at the paddle Stiles was holding. Stiles with a frown on his face like he remembered the last time he had to use the stupid paddle.

Isaac nodded eagerly and Stiles positioned him so that he was seated in between Stiles legs so his little hands could grip the hilt of the paddle. Derek knew that Isaac and Stiles weren’t going to be much help, but Isaac look so pleased to be holding the paddle, squealing excitedly as the canoe started to move down stream like he were actually happening, that it didn’t really matter.

Derek is surprised he even remembers where he’s going, this time they don’t have their fancy GPS, this time carrying as little as they need. A few change of clothes for the three of them, some snacks, a lighter and other little bits they’d need. Not the mass of stuff they bought last time they were here.

They were soon paddling up the familiar obscure island just off of Big Moose Lake, where Stiles jumped out, carrying Isaac with him and leaving Derek to pull the canoe up onto the shore. Stiles noted the familiar “No Trespassers” sign that was _still_ lopsided and couldn’t help but laugh.

Stiles shrugged on his backpack, putting Isaac’s little one on his back and Derek bent down so that Isaac could jump on his back, to have a piggy back, Derek holding his backpack in hand. The last thing they needed was Isaac running off in front of them as they navigated through the forest, and get stuck up in any netting. They weren’t sure if the Tribe had set up more traps after the ones they’d disrupted and were not about to find out. Stiles followed closely behind in Derek’s footsteps.

It took longer than it should have between Isaac pointing at every bird or animal scurrying away that they saw, and the amount of times he said he had to pee. Every time Isaac had to pee, miraculously Stiles needed to pee as well, so there they stood marking their territory at the base of different trees as Derek stood around impatiently tapping his foot.

Derek saw the clearing of trees, becoming less condensed and they knew they’d made it. They entered the clearing, just as they had last time, this time they weren’t bound and being led, poked and prodded by spears of the tribesmen. It was a familiar sight, children running around, some of the people doing work and others just talking. They all looked up as the three stood just at the edge of the clearing.

“We’re back!” Stiles beamed.

Scar looked startled before he groaned. While Adahy stood up, clapping his hands together looking more than pleased, Aiyana mirroring her husband’s reaction. Derek set Isaac down, as the children all ran around to see the new little boy who’d just arrived. Adahy came and grasped both men in a three-way hug, before letting go and Aiyana hugged them individually.

“And who’s this little one?” Adahy beamed looking at Isaac who was clutching Derek’s leg as the kids started talking to him.

“This is Isaac, our son,” Derek announced. “Say hello Isaac.”

Isaac said hello, and gingerly extended his hand when Adahy bent down to say his hello’s a big smile on his face. “Do you want to play with the other kids?” he asked and Isaac nodded and let himself be pulled along with the children, running around.

“C’mere Scar, you know you wanna give Stiles a big ol’ hug,” Stiles beamed making his way towards Scar.

Scar pretended to look affronted, but relented brought Stiles into a bear hug and then doing the same with Derek, telling them to sit down as one of the other members of the Tribe went and fetched them some food and something to drink.

“So Isaac?” Scar asked, raising his eyebrow and glancing at where Isaac was chasing after a little girl.

“Our son,” Stiles nodded.

“Together? As in you two managed to work your shit out.”

“It would appear that way,” Aiyana scoffed smacking Scar on the back of the head.

“I guess you were right,” Stiles conceded to Scar, “when you mentioned something about paradise and never wanting to leave and all that. We worked it out.”

“You were right about my pride,” Derek nodded in Aiyana’s direction, she just rolled her eyes – she knew that already, the men just needed to figure it out on their own.

They were quiet for a while just watching their children running around, throwing balls and laughing. Not having a care in the world, it was something Derek envied, being a kid and not having a worry in the world. He still worried that he was a horrible dad, going to mess up with Isaac or somehow lose Stiles again. He worried about bills, and him and Stiles trying to pick schools, and even what to have for dinner. Then again, growing up had its advantages when he felt Stiles snake his arm around Derek’s waist and holding on lightly, his fingers grazing over Derek’s side tracing random patterns.

“Dad, dad! Look!” Isaac yelled running up to his parents sitting on one of the log benches, “Tad said we can play lacrosse,” he was swinging a miniature lacrosse stick in the air.

“Is Tad going to teach you how to play?” Derek asked.

“Yeah! Can I play?”

“Of course you can,” Stiles said watching as Isaac ran back in the direction of the children, lacrosse stick swinging in the air.

“You old men up for a game?” Scar said an evident smirk on his face.

Derek snorted, remembering the last time they played and what happened. “I’m game,” Derek agreed looking at Stiles a questioning look in his eyes.

“There is _no_ way I’m on Derek’s team though. If I’m going to tackle his ass it’s going to be because we’re on _different_ teams,” Stiles exclaimed.

“One time,” Derek rolled his eyes, but they all stood up heading towards the tipi that housed all the sporting equipment. They divided up into their teams, Stiles with Scar and some other men and Derek with Adahy and the rest of the men. The horn started and they were off and running.

An hour and a half later the familiar horn was blown and the men made their way back to the clearing where the smell of cooking food wafted in their direction, making their stomachs grumble.

“Take that sucker! I won!” Stiles exclaimed waving his lacrosse stick at Derek’s chest.

“You? It’s a team sport,” Derek rolled his eyes batting Stiles’ crosse away from him.  

“And you hardly did anything,” Scar joked.

“I call bull on that, I scored twice,” Stiles scoffed.

“Glad to see you men still have it in you,” Adahy laughed dropping the lacrosse stick on the ground in a pile of others.

“Us? You’re older!”

“But apparently in better shape,” Adahy said narrowing his eyes at Stiles, and yeah Stiles had to admit these guys were _fit._ Even more fit than Derek and he doesn’t know how that he even happens. Maybe meditation or the whole mind over matter mentality.

Derek and Stiles slumped back on the log, out of breath and thankful when they were served even _more_ food. Isaac was sitting in a circle with the other children, gobbling up the food that Aiyana had served him. He looked happy, sharing his food with the other kids, trading what he didn’t like for stuff that he did like. Normally, Stiles and Derek made him eat a little of everything on his plate so that he expanded his taste pallet but they were on their stay-cation, so they allowed it.

The tribe talked about any and everything as they sat around a blazing fire as the sun was setting, talking about what Stiles and Derek had been up to these past three years, aside from getting a son. They were sad to hear that they were moving back to California, but glad that they at least came back to visit, and that they were happy they got back together and even happier that they got to meet Isaac.

They talked until the moon was high in the sky, the children already tucked into bed. Stiles and Derek not wanting to go to bed just yet, and the rest of the tribe not seeming to want to go to sleep either. Derek knew that when they woke up the following morning their lives would go back to reality, they’d start their journey back to Beacon Hills, settling in for a long drive.

Derek was secretly looking forward to it though, going back to his old family home. Being around Stiles’ dad who adored Derek, Stiles even joked that he was convinced Papa Stilinski loved Isaac more than he loved Stiles. Papa Stilinski had scoffed saying of course he loved his perfect grandson more, humour reaching his eyes.

But Derek liked it here, in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a good group of men and woman. It wasn’t where it all started for him and Stiles, but it was where it was all _restarted._ If they’d never come here, never gotten into the heap of trouble that they did, didn’t get stuck in a net and be forced to confront their feelings from the past year and finally, _finally_ realise they still cared for each other – they never would have gotten back together.

Derek would still be a bounty hunter, living in Brooklyn in a crappy studio apartment, sleeping with a married man and hating himself. Stiles would have been successful as ever in his job, content with his career but unfulfilled in every other aspect of his life. Merging their lives together, again, was what they both needed.

Isaac filled a hole in Derek’s heart, the part of him that always wanted children. And Isaac created an Isaac shaped space in Stiles’ heart, he was no longer the selfish man who wanted the high paying job, nice apartment with fancy gadgets and a hot husband. He wanted a _family_ , like the one his dad, mom and him used to make. Now he has that. They have each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! Okay, so I forgot to add before (and someone already asked about Camden, Isaac’s brother) and for the purpose of this story I only pictured Isaac (shame on me, I know!) but I just wanted it to be the three of them, like Stiles when it was him, his dad and mom. 
> 
> I also wanted them to move back to Beacon Hills, because the whole “you always end up going home” thing (I know not always) but I just thought of New York as a chapter of their life, when it was just Stiles and Derek. As far as raising a child – Beacon Hills was the way to go (in my opinion), besides they’ll be around Stiles’ dad, and Scott and his kids (who was only briefly mentioned in the story). 
> 
> Thanks for reading and actually giving it a chance, I knew where I wanted it to end I just wasn’t sure I was going to get there – and then all the craziness happened!

**Author's Note:**

> & my tumblr: fought-thewolvesof-patience.tumblr.com


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